


Endless Oratorio

by Maloe_Less



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Angst, Comedy, F/F, Fluff, MMORPGs, Romance, Slow Burn, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 80,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maloe_Less/pseuds/Maloe_Less
Summary: Aqours, but video games instead of dancing and singing.This is the story of nine girls from a small seaside town and their Endless successes and failures, altruism and egoism, and laughs and lies.Chapter 36: Dia did not look impressed.  Yoshiko did not do many impressive things.  Correlation?
Relationships: Sakurauchi Riko/Tsushima Yoshiko, Takami Chika/Watanabe You
Comments: 114
Kudos: 66





	1. Endless

_“If we don’t give up, all our dreams will come true.”_

Chika woke with those words reverberating in her head. This was strange, because she had gone to bed thinking about playing table tennis with a tangerine.

Was it a sign?

Did such a hardy, yet bouncy tangerine exist?

A shiver ran from toe to head. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, on the verge of something great, something warm, something cold, something to love.

Oh, never mind. The window was open and the sheets had somehow come off her feet.

No – hold on – the shiver wasn’t because of the breeze – she was about to have an epitome... a euphemism... an epiphany! Today was special. It was-

The door swung open.

“Get up. You’re going to be late for school.”

It was the first day of school.

Her older sister, Mito, stood tall and perfect like a goddess looking down on lost, blind serfs. Chika didn’t want to be blind and lost. With the door and window now both open, another breeze, persistent, went through the room, and it blew the blankets off Chika.

She wiggled her toes.

“I’ll cut them off,” Mito said, and Chika momentarily experienced a flashback to a lack of parents and one scissor-wielding sister. No – wait – _two_ scissor-wielding sisters. She stopped the wiggling of toes.

“I’m up,” Chika said, scrambling, rolling off her bed, getting caught in the blankets, _oofing_ on the ground, struggling, and then, a good ten seconds later, making true on her word. Except Mito was already gone.

Maybe that was for the best.

Standing in the center of her room with her sheets wrapped around her like she was a mummy or an insane asylum patient, she struggled to remember why she had felt so excited. Something about tangerines? Something about Endless Oratorio? Something about school? Toes? Scissors? _Tangerines?_ Or just the desire not to be blind and lost?

In a trance, she changed into her uniform, fretted emptily about it in front of the mirror, and then stumbled down the stairs.

Her family was gathered around the TV, eating breakfast. Chika decides to live in the present and slips a couple slices of bread into the toaster and then sits down.

On-screen, Endless Oratorio. They were showing a recap of last week’s competitive matches. Since it was the beginning of the school year, there weren’t many events yet.

An avatar was standing alone on screen. She looked to be about Chika’s age, maybe a little younger, and she had this black dress that was sorta doll-like and sorta really intense. It was pretty, fashionable, and had just the right amount of unsettling-ness to fit her personality. Her dark blue hair contrasted the plain concrete of the battlefield in what Chika immediately recognized as the one versus one match.

The play-by-play caster was shouting rapid-fire as particles continued to rise from a magic circle around the girl.

“Yohane has a clear route to victory, here, yet Sarah has not realized it. The early clashes helped reduce the cooldown on Bloody Rain, and now a completion is imminent. There it is – full commitment on Sarah’s part – she knows now – yet – oh, no, she’s only pulled out three clones. That’s not going to be enough!”

Yohane was surrounded by four ninjas as she lifted her parasol. The motions were precise. Her lips were moving – an incantation, but the words couldn’t be heard over the caster’s comments. Surrounded by clones of Sarah – a ninja whose armor is too purple and too revealing – Yohane let go of the parasol and completed her incantation.

The parasol didn’t fall, but rain did. It was blood red, or just blood, and the clones didn’t take too nicely to it. They fell apart like fine lego, revealing the sole true Sarah, who was struggling under a small glyph conjured to act as her own parasol. Yohane, immune to the precipitation, picked up her parasol and like it was a rapier lunged forward and pierced Sarah with it. What followed was a single kick, which knocked Sarah back into the rain, where she gasped, fell to the ground, and writhed.

The victory jingle began to play.

“And a commanding finish by the Fallen Angel Yohane! This locks her into third place for the monthly 1v1 Arena ladder. A cool twenty thousand yen richer, and a set of unique consumables to take back to Choir. Yet is she satisfied? When asked for an interview after the battle, she had this to say:”

The screen cut to a dirt road, with a backdrop that looked a lot like the coliseum of Rome. Chika recognized the place immediately; it was two kilometers outside of the capital city. The scenery was digital, but the graphics were near indistinguishable from real life. Maybe they were just a tad brighter and better. Yohane was there, with her trademark black parasol. Up close, the skulls, candles, and spiders on the parasol were visible.

“This is my third month and, yet, here I am. So soon. What is there really to say? I’m disappointed.” She looked into the camera with a confidence or arrogance. “Is this all it takes? Is this the best you have? If you don’t show me something interesting by the time I get to the top, I’d rather watch the world burn than save it. And I warn you: I’ll be there soon, so give me something nice to see other than the horizon. I do not bend to time. I do not serve for the expectations of others. And I certainly will not defend the worthless.”

Yohane lowered her parasol to block the camera’s view, then disappeared – some kind of teleportation – leaving behind a clumsily collapsing tower of spiders in her stead. The video shook as the cameraman stumbled away from the spiders.

Chika must have arrived late into the competitive recaps, because it ended with Yohane’s exit. She didn’t mind, though, because the next part was her favorite. The top five plays of the week... or not. The usual graphical sequence broke. The music changed to the Oratorio Live theme.

The toaster went beep, beep, but it might as well have went weep, weep, because Chika was not paying it any attention.

The victors of last year’s Oratorio Live appeared on screen.

The camera panned past nine girls, each with distinct, dazzling smiles like there was no evil in the world. And then the camera stopped at one girl: Honoka. Chika could recognize her even without the caption. _Wow_ , she thought. Just, wow. Someone was saying something on the TV, but she couldn’t hear, because, as guilt and gratitude flew by like winged fish, something more concrete landed in front of her. Thanking her father, she sipped the hot chocolate and then refocused to the part beyond the _wow_. A path – a direction – somewhere to go – a goal to reach towards – someone – an aspiration.

It was almost impossible, but there it was, right in front of her. And she couldn’t deny it.

Everyone was staring at her.

She frowned and looked between her family members.

_School_ , Mito mouthed.

“Wah!” She was totally gonna be late. “I’m off!” she shouted, before grabbing her unbuttered toast, putting it in her mouth, and running out the door.

“Take care,” her mother called after her.

Chika didn’t hear this.

Her thoughts were elsewhere. In the land of Choir.


	2. Intro

Endless Oratorio took the world by storm.

Powered by Endless Links, a constellation of satellites in low earth orbit, anyone anywhere could log in and play on low latency. The game’s world was massive, and because it was streamed, there were no loading times or waiting for updates to install. Everything was instant. The client only sent inputs to the server and received only video, making cheating all but impossible. There was no need for graphics settings and optimizing frame rates – the endless battle between GPU cores and rendered triangle meshes was over. It was the future of games, but it was also, quite simply, the future. Companies and corporations immediately saw the potential and moved their businesses to this online environment.

In time, Endless Oratorio became more than a game. It became the best for everything: work, shopping, recreation.

For ninety-nine percent of the population, the game’s endless complexities were irrelevant, but some – young and bright and seeking a brighter future – did not shirk from these challenges. They sought happiness, for themselves and for others, in the form of battle. A vibrant competitive scene grew. The teams, the gambling, and the personalities were abundant. Massive international audiences loved to watch the players’ creativity and teamwork as they struggled at the very upper limits of human abilities. The performances were unparalleled and unforgettable.

And at the forefront of the competitive scene was Oratorio Live, where the youngest dared to prove their mettle. It was there, in the limelight, that they could finally shine.

This is the story of nine girls from a small seaside town and their Endless successes and failures, altruism and egoism, and laughs and lies.


	3. Plateau

The horizon reached far like an endless world. She held her hand out to the sun, fingers stretched wide apart, mouth wider.

“You can’t drink sunlight,” Yō said.

“Watch me.”

Yō did, mildly amused at the attempt. If magic could be learned from sheer determination, then, at that moment, Chika would have earned an incredible ability. But, in truth, Chika had no sun-related magic. Still, it didn’t stop her from enjoying the moment. Yō joined her at the edge of the cliff, first looking down, and then looking across the sky. It was captivating. No mountains blocked the orange and pink painted horizon. The curvature of the world was visible. Here was the greatest vantage point in the world, completely for them.

“I’m glad there’s nothing up here,” Chika said.

Yō nodded. No villages, no quest markers, no NPCs. “No reason for anyone to be here. It’s both quiet and beautiful.”

“I want to buy this land.”

“It’s outside of Choir,” Yō said after a hesitation. She couldn’t tell if Chika was serious or not.

“I’d build a cabin here, so every day I could see this brilliant landscape.”

“It would stick out like a sore thumb.”

Chika lowered all her fingers but her thumb. “Yep. It would.” She laughed. “But that would make it all the more fun.”

“Hey, Chika,” Yō began. “I-”

A hint of something warned her. She spun around and took hold of her bow before knowing why. The grass on the plateau withered. The temperature began to drop rapidly, though the sun was still minutes from dipping below the horizon.

“What’s going on?” Yō said, her breath a visible wisp in the sudden cold.

The sound of ice breaking made her spin around yet again. Chika had collapsed to her knees, frosted, frozen grass shattered beneath her. She scooped it up like sand, her lips quivering. Broken, before the enemy had even shown itself. The plateau was dying and they were helpless.

The magic started coming in all at once. Status effects stacked like pancakes at the Takami household. Their health and agility were being drained from _Freezing III_. _Magical Mute_ prevented teleportation and contacting anyone with the chat feature. Under _Tyranny_ , support spells had their ranges reduced. _Clumsy Hands IV_ lowered accuracy and increased item usage time. _Aquaphobic III_ reduced aqua-based healing effects by fifty percent. _Wrinkled Skin III_ reduced water resistance. _Volcanic Ash X_ reduced accuracy – stacking with Clumsy Hands – and reduced fire resistance. _Global Terror IV_ was a completely new ailment. She read the description and, had she had the time to, she would’ve scoffed. It lowered all her stats by twenty percent.

Conclusion: this was not a human threat. It wasn’t possible, not with ten players or a hundred. She brought up Choir’s public chat across her vision. The server message was in purple text:

_[1455] Surprise Event! GR 55XX 46XX : The Hyllish Dragon has returned to Choir after-_

There was no more time. Even as she read the word ‘dragon’, it descended from the sky and landed in the middle of the plateau, exactly where Chika would have placed her cabin. The earth shook, and dirt and grass and ice sprayed up as the dragon’s claws dug into the ground. For a second, it seemed like the whole plateau would shift and collapse, like a ship in an ocean storm.

There was bad luck, and then there was this. They were dead center of a new global-scale event.

A cloud of ash, initially surrounding the dragon, began to spread out. It wasn’t dense enough to hide them, and it probably held more status effects within.

“Get up,” Yō said, eyes locked onto the dragon. “What’s your inventory?”

“Why?” Chika choked.

“What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“The-the grass – it’s dead.” Chika clawed at it as it dissolved into ice crystals.

They would be, too, in a matter of minutes. “Focus, Chika!”

The command worked. Chika looked at the dragon for the first time, fire in her eyes.

“We’re killing it,” she said, her confidence defying reason.

“We should run,” Yō said. “If we die, we lose everything.”

“High stakes is what makes it worth fighting for!”

It wasn’t a fight they could win. That much was obvious before even exchanging blows. Yet Chika drew her primary weapon, Bronzicator, and charged into the ash without waiting for support or a strategy. It was all very Chika-like. And also a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, Chika, unable to make up her mind, had half spec’d into tank and half into warrior, so she wasn’t incinerated when the dragon’s fiery breath hit her. Their enemy was a true master of elements, showing potency in both fire and ice magic within seconds of its arrival.

With little thought, Yō shot Chika with a fire-resistance arrow – it would be enough to negate the debuff, at least – and then focused on more important things.

Nobody would be able to teleport directly in due to Magical Mute, so they would teleport as close as possible and travel the remaining distance on mount. To get reinforcements quickly, Yō and Chika needed everyone within a hundred kilometers to know exactly where they were. Thankfully, Yō had made flare-arrows in advance and always carried some around with her. She had a lot of utility arrows and items, and it was precisely these circumstances where they paid off. She fired one into the air. The ash haze in her immediate vicinity meant she couldn’t see the result, but if her chemistry was passable it would form an orange cloud above them and, depending on the wind, last for several hours.

Meanwhile, Chika was dying and, just a little bit, fighting.

There was no time to learn the enemy’s attacks, so she would dash in at every opportunity, seeking to deal damage. Yō supported where she could. The inside of the wings weren’t armoured, so that’s where she sent her arrows.

The first not-bad thing to happen all battle was when Chika got a good hit in. Bronzicator stabbed between the scales and the dragon roared. But good wasn’t enough, for this kind of battle. The dragon spread its wings, and that simple motion created a gust that sent Chika flying. It might not have hurt a lot, but it effectively removed her from the battle because Bronzicator did not come with her. It stayed lodged between the dragon’s scales.

But Chika wasn’t done. Between a midair recovery and air-dash, she equipped a new weapon. Yō was able to immediately identify it by its appearance. Panini was a unique sword-class weapon, but it was extremely weak. Chika claimed to have earned it from participation in Endless Oratorio’s beta – though Yō had suspicions it was truly stolen from a bread-lover – and carried it with her at all times. Enemies it killed had a greater chance of dropping food items. Yes, though Chika would never admit it, Panini was a useless gag weapon.

Well, usually useless. But the mid-air equip gave her a temporary bonus agility and strength buff. She was back in the fight. Bread met scale. It went about as expected. For the second time in a matter of seconds, Chika lost her weapon. Panini slid off the metallic scales and then lodged in between two like bread slotted into a toaster. Finally the dragon had had enough. It bashed her away with a wing, and then, displaying an impressive aptitude for wind magic, conjured a tornado.

What happened next was mostly due to a lack of caution on Yō’s part – she was a good distance away and wanted to output more DPS rather than reposition. The tornado picked up Chika like she was a chicken, and then it sped up and by the time Yō started to move it was too late and she too was lifted off her feet and tumbling through the air. With a life of its own, the tornado knew exactly what to do: carry them off the cliff and then dissipate.

There was nothing to stop their fall. The tornado had also silenced them. The silence could have been dispelled with a potion – of a type Yō conveniently had on hand – but the Clumsy Hands status effect slowed item use enough that it was pointless to even try.

Arrows didn’t count as consumable items, though, so the status effect wouldn’t slow her down there. She had a tenth of a second to decide what would give her the best chance of survival. All her arrows were low chances, as far as she could see. Her grapple arrow was only effective on enemies and softer surfaces like wood; it wouldn’t lodge itself into stone. It seemed like the best choice, though, because a few small trees were trying to grow in the crevices of the cliff rushing by. In a desperate action, she drew a grapple arrow, saw a blur of green on the cliff, aimed, and fired.

The chance of hitting the tree was near zero, considering the velocity she was falling at, so she was surprised when the arrow found its mark. Less surprised when it ripped the tree out by the roots. Loose dirt and tree followed her free fall.

In the second before she hit the ground, she looked down to see where she would end up. There was a river that they would be missing by ten meters. A shame. Ah – but there was something more. There was someone in the river, casting a spell. Yō squinted. A... a mermaid?

_“River Blessing!”_

It wasn’t the mermaid’s fault. There were two of them falling, and only one blessing. So as the water rose to catch Chika, Yō’s fall continued uninterrupted. She briefly wondered what it would all cost her before hitting the ground.

Death was instant but not merciful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my own sanity, I had to go through 50k words to replace You->Yō. If I missed any, please let me know. And don’t be mislead – most of the story is fluff and fun stuff. The action is just needed to set it up.


	4. The Mermaid, Unicorn-san, and #3

Kanan made the split-second decision and came to regret it.

Her magic reached up effortlessly, catching the falling swordswoman like she was but a drop in a cup.

The pillar of water brought the woman down to the river and there she stood, not making a single ripple on the water’s surface, like a deity. No sword in her hand – no, she was beyond mortal weapons – she turned to face them. Her omniscient eyes narrowed in on Kanan. And then...

“Ohmigod, an honest-to-gosh mermaid! Wow, you’re so pretty! I wanna be a mermaid, too! No fair!”

“You’re lucky we were nearby,” Kanan said, wishing she had saved the other one. Who, notably, had died on impact and left behind a treasure trove of items. It had been like a bag of holding puking up all its contents. There was a haphazard pile of potions, arrows, light armour, bows, scrolls, bombs, and more. More than the average player could ever effectively use in battle. Maybe the archer had been one of those players who always held on to their rare potions, planning to use them in a time of need, but never did.

Also, coiled nicely around the items was a rope with an uprooted sapling attached to the end. An admirable attempt, all things considered.

“A mermaid?” Iram questioned – because of course she couldn’t let a stranger gush over someone else. She stepped forward and snapped her fingers, turning into a unicorn. “You want to be a mermaid? Not a unicorn?”

Dia intervened immediately. “Iram, enough fooling around. This is serious!”

“When is it not, with you, Dia?” Iram said, transforming back into a busty blonde girl.

“I recall last time you so frivolously changed forms, we ran out of mana and paid a great price for your folly.”

“ _We_ ,” Iram mocked. “I have twice as much mana than both of you combined.”

“Yes, and it’s about all you have.”

“I have cuteness.”

The dragon on the plateau looked down on them and roared its approval. Kanan was fine with being less cute, if that was the dragon’s aggro criterion.

“Oh, no!” Iram said, though she was grinning and looked delighted to receive the dragon’s attention.

In all honesty, Kanan was mostly waiting for Dia’s orders to retreat. If such a thing was even possible, against an enemy with speed that eclipsed any player’s mount.

“Ah,” the swordswoman said. “Yō is dead.”

That was what Kanan needed for the seed of suspicion to be planted. Her friend Chika had said she played as a swordswoman. And Yō was an archer, albeit supposedly not as skilled as the one who had just died. A lot of people played the game, though, so it was just as likely to be a coincidence. And more important than identifying the swordswoman was dealing with the dragon circling overhead.

“What’s with these status effects?” Iram said. “I feel yucky just looking at them all.”

“I don’t think you have a right to complain,” Kanan said.

“You’re right.” Iram giggled. “What kind of mermaid is aquaphobic?”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Can mermaids even have wrinkled skin?”

“You’ll have your answer when I’m strangling you.”

“We should keep that in the bedroom.”

“Enough idle talk,” Dia said. “It’s coming!”

“Already?” Iram said. “We didn’t even make it to the bedroom, yet!”

Despite Dia’s over-seriousness and Iram’s inability to spell the word ‘seriousness’, the three of them made a good team. From the very first moment, they knew how to best play off of each others’ skills, which was one of the most important aspects of fast-paced teamwork. Of course, Dia and Kanan had played together for years, so there was a lot of prior experience there, but Iram had joined them only months ago yet it was like they had played together forever.

So their only problem now was this new fourth person...

“Where’s your sword?” Dia demanded.

The swordswoman looked at her empty hands and then clapped them together in realization. “Oh, I lost them both!”

That cemented Kanan’s suspicions that she had saved the wrong person. The distinct, cheery lack of concern in her voice also confirmed that it couldn’t be anyone but Chika. And friend or not, Chika was useless without a weapon.

* * *

The battle was ruthless, but Dia doubly so.

Because death meant their items would be left ripe for the picking by anyone who came across their corpses in search of the dragon, they were doing everything they could to survive until a retreat became possible. At one point, with Kanan recovering underwater and Iram hiding as a tree in a forest, Dia and Chika were in trouble. And though her vision wasn’t perfect, submerged in the river beneath an ash aura, Kanan knew what she saw. Words were exchanged between Dia and Chika, and then Dia pushed Chika forward, into the dragon’s mouth.

The dragon did what any reasonable dragon would do, and chomped down on its dinner. All that was left of Chika was a fountain of items.

Miraculously, it then decided it was full. With one last fiery breath to ignite the jungle around them, it flew off. Kanan immediately switched to a passive healing aura to top off Iram and Dia’s health, while Iram went to the item piles left behind by Yō and Chika like they were defeated enemies in need of looting. Truthfully, though, the resources expended in surviving the dragon fight had been costly, and they deserved some sort of reward.

Dia, however, hadn’t relaxed. She tossed aside her burning, melting shield and stared at the sky. There was an orange cloud there – some kind of flare, possibly sent by Yō before her death.

“Kanan,” she said, “scout the dragon, if you can. But keep your distance.”

The river did indeed follow the dragon’s flight path.

“On it,” Kanan said, dropping beneath the water.

* * *

Yō respawned in Choir with zero equipment.

Even though she was wearing an overly girlish shirt and a monochrome argyle skirt, she felt naked without armour.

Around her, the chaos of the day continued unperturbed. A lot of people – the majority, in fact – didn’t fight in Endless Oratorio. The game was as much a digital marketplace as it was a game. Businesses set up virtual stores in the capital city and built large buildings to hold virtual meetings. Studies had been published showing the benefits of this new way of life, such as lower vehicle traffic and reduced cost of doing business. Schools – private schools, cram schools, and overcrowded public schools alike – taught their students in Endless while libraries taught the unenrolled.

A lot of the service industry had moved online because it was so much more convenient. Customer service could show a friendly face instead of being a staticky voice. Because who could get mad when dealing with a cute girl in a short-skirted school uniform? Yō knew from experience that she couldn’t. It was, quite frankly, ingenious. And that was probably why dating services were so successful as well. Endless Oratorio dominated the dating services industry.

The food industry had trouble moving online, though, for obvious reasons. They adapted as best they could, by advertising in-game and making deliveries as seamless as possible. It worked relatively well; digital artists created the dishes, waiters served them, and if the customer approved, they could have it delivered in real life with a single gesture.

And now, Yō, standing on seventh street without weapon or armour, looked exactly like the average citizen who was here for a business meeting or shopping, or just indulging in one of the many hobbies available.

At this moment, though, dozens of guilds across the world would be gearing up and coordinating transportation to hunt down the dragon. They were about to embark on a journey of a lifetime, and Yō’s was already over.

The wind in her ears, the blur of the cliff, and the clarity of the ground rushing towards her, but above all, the futility of her actions...

This death had cost a lot more than usual. And she wasn’t just thinking about her entire inventory and experience bar. Yō wouldn’t be so dramatic as to think it was the final nail in the coffin, but confidence in her abilities had crashed as hard as she had from that fall.

Since her critical analysis skills were marred by the recent failure, it was too soon to review the battle. But that was exactly why she wanted to look back at it. So many mistakes. She had been virtually useless. Her mind, sharp as it was now, had seemed like a dull rock in the moment. Why was it so easy to identify every misplay, large and small, only minutes after the battle was already over?

The truth – or one of the truths – immediately came to her. She wasn’t suited to be an archer. This, and many other times like it, proved that. Her choice in weapon, which at the time had gone through careful considerations, failed her time and time again. She could never get it right. Something more supportive would suit her better. A support mage, who just needed to cast spells on cooldown on their allies, was more up her alley. And Chika would appreciate it more than what Yō had to contribute now. It was harder to screw up.

These were the thoughts she was left to stew with as she waited for Chika to contact her.

* * *

Growing bored of regret, Yō scrolled back through the server chat and found it:

_[1455] Surprise Event! GR 55XX 46XX : The Hyllish Dragon has returned to Choir after stealing Osmund’s Ruby during its first appearance two months ago. It must be stopped before it can cause any further chaos to Choir!_

Though she had missed the original event, she did recall hearing about Osmund’s Ruby. It was one of the three royal items. Whoever obtained them all would be crowned the next ruler of Choir. Or something like that. The details escaped her.

Finally, she received a message from Chika.

_Meet at A-RISE Hotel’s Lounge._

She had no clue where that was, but consulted a directory nearby to find the address. It wasn’t far enough to warrant teleportation, as easy as it was to perform within the capital’s boundaries, so she walked.

It ended up being one of those buildings that could only look natural in the center of downtown. Endless Oratorio was a fantasy MMORPG. This was apparent when exploring the villages and ruins within the kingdom of Choir, but less obvious in the capital city. Companies were able to purchase plots and had architects design their headquarters with abandon. It was one of those things where futuristic concept art _was_ the final product: engineering and practicality were irrelevant. Nothing cost too much, whether it was glass walls, garden walls, or golden walls.

The A-RISE Hotel wasn’t traditional or sci-fi themed, but a modern Japanese high-rise which would have fit perfectly in a district in Tokyo. Yō wondered if it was named solely for the pun.

The first floor was a stylish reception area with tall, large-leafed plants. Located off to the side, next to the bar, was the lounge. And, lounging there, Chika.

“I died,” Chika said, rubbing her neck and laughing.

Yō didn’t know what to say. “Sorry,” she mumbled, taking a seat next to Chika on the sofa.

“For what? It was kinda fun. Maybe less, for you. But you shoulda seen when you died, all those items spitting out – it was like killing a boss in a dungeon crawler.”

“Yeah,” Yō said, unsure if Chika was trying to cheer her up.

“But we’ll do better next time. Once we know what we’re getting into-”

“Next time?” Yō said.

“Sure,” Chika said. “That dragon has my sword-”

“Swords.”

“-and there’s no way I’m letting him keep it.”

“Them,” Yō said. “Okay. So, why did we meet up here?”

“Hmm? Oh, well, to get our items back, of course.”

“The mermaid?”

“And her friends. There were three of them.”

“And they survived?”

Chika shrugged like it didn’t matter.

“And they said they were going to give us our items?”

“Not explicitly,” Chika said.

“What exactly did they say?”

“The one girl said to meet here, before she killed me.”

Yō nodded. “She killed you.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

“...yeah,” Chika said, a little downcast.

Speaking aloud did wonders for people like her.

They were, however, stopped at the entrance.

“Can I buy you fine ladies a drink?”

“Oh, it’s Unicorn-san!” Chika said.

The girl glowed.

Accompanying Unicorn-san were two other girls. The tall one with blue hair was unmistakably the mermaid in human form. And then there was a serious-looking girl with long black hair who, even without showing her weapon, was so obviously a swordswoman like Chika. Probably a samurai specialization. She seemed more like the type to glower instead of glow. And, in fact, she was doing that now.

The three girls were a colourful trio who, at a glance, didn’t belong together.

“Which one killed you?” Yō said, though she had an idea.

“I don’t know,” Chika said, scanning them like it was a police lineup. “It was so dark, in the ash. Gosh, they all look so alike. Ummm, number three, can you glare menacingly?”

Number three put up an excellent audition.

“Yeah,” Chika said. “Definitely her.”

“If you want your items back, you’ll quit fooling around,” #3 said.

“Unfortunately,” Unicorn-san said, “most of them burned, anyways. The forest is all on fire. Here:”

She pulled out two item cards and handed them over.

Yō tapped hers and scanned the list. Indeed, all the flammable items – her bows and arrows included – were missing. But there were all her potions and miscellaneous items, at least.

“Thanks,” she said, pocketing it.

But that didn’t absolve them of their crimes. As Yō was planning how to confront #3 about killing Chika, #3 went for the bar and Chika followed, pestering her with questions and a lack of ill will. That left her with Unicorn-san and...

“Sorry,” the mermaid said.

Yō closed her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. You made the right choice.”

“I most definitely did not.”

Yō wasn’t going to argue it. Self-deprecation was something to keep to herself; empty words of encouragement weren’t something she wanted to hear, whether from Chika or a stranger.

“How did the fight with the dragon go?” Yō said.

“It’s not possible with so few people.” The mermaid put her hands on her hips – Unicorn-san copying like it was some kind of joke – and sighed. “We were lucky to get out alive. It turned its attention away from us.”

“Guilds teleporting in nearby?”

“Maybe.”

“Enough boring talk,” Unicorn-san said. “Let’s drink!”

She physically dragged the mermaid over to the bar. Yō followed and took a seat next to Chika, who was trying to buy #3’s enchanted necklace for increasingly less gold.

When Chika finally gave up, Yō asked, “Did you read the server message?”

“Yeah. The Hyllish Dragon,” Chika said. “Stuuu-pid.”

“You’re just bitter.”

“Of course I am! It took Panini!” Chika said. “I need my sword back.”

“Swords,” Yō corrected.

“Huh?”

“You lost Bronzicator, too.”

“Oh. Isn’t that what I said? Both of them, of course. I want them both back.”

“And the ruby?” Yō asked. If they were to go after the Hyllish Dragon, it was a fair question. “Osmund’s Ruby? Are we going after that, too?”

“Ruby? Pshh. Lame.”

“Excuse me?” #3 demanded.

“I had bronze and bread. Nobody needs ruby.”

“Don’t be silly,” #3 said. “Ruby is very valuable.”

“Ruby is useless.”

“Oh, lord,” the mermaid muttered.

“You’re wrong,” #3 said, an edge to her voice.

Yō could tell something was off, and maybe Chika could, too, and that’s why she was pushing it.

“Ruby is a dumb rock,” Chika said. “I’ve seen garbage more useful than ruby.”

#3 stood up, fists clenched and shaking like she wanted to start a fight. It was a surprising offset to her usual seriousness.

“You’ll rue the day you disrespected Ruby,” #3 said. Without any goodbyes to her companions, she logged out.

“Wow,” Unicorn-san said. “I’m impressed.”

“You shouldn’t be,” the mermaid said. “She only got away with it because of her ignorance.”

“I don’t get it,” Chika said.

“See?”

“Seen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes the last in-game chapter for a long time. I was expecting a more even split between in/out of game, but school is apparently more fun to write.


	5. Ruby

“I’m going to create the Endless Pro Club!”

“Okay,” Yō said.

They were on the walk to school, and Chika had been bubbling with pent up excitement until she’d made the declaration.

Yō could have waited for further explanation, but none would have been forthcoming. When Chika got overly excited about something, she generally forgot that others couldn’t read her mind. So it was fastest to take the reins of the conversation and lead it where it needed to go.

“Why?”

“To find myself! To find love!” Chika declared. “To shine as brightly as the sun! To explore the depths of the sea!”

Yō nodded. This was all very Chika-like. Except for the last one, which maybe had Kanan influences in it. But, well, this venture would end in disaster. Becoming a pro wasn’t something that could be decided on a whim. Whims didn’t last. Especially for Chika. She went from whims to whams to wharfs all before breakfast.

“To see the heights of the mountains, the dunes of the desert, the crests of the waves, the canopies of the jungles-

“How?”

“Huh?”

“You need at least five members to form a club.”

“Ugh.” Chika’s energy level dropped. But that was no cause for concern. She was likely just saving it for when a solution came to mind.

Five minutes later, they were on school grounds.

“Earlier, you were asking how,” Chika said, like she was recalling a conversation from weeks ago.

“Yes, I vaguely remember. It was a question that gave you some difficulties.”

“No longer!” Chika stopped walking, and so did Yō. “Do you see what I see?”

“Is it something red?” Yō said, only because Chika’s eyes were figuratively drilling into the back of a first-year student who was innocently standing nearby.

“Yes! Her shirt!”

Yō gave it a closer look. It was Endless merchandise.

“You can’t possibly-” Yō stopped herself, lest it be taken as a challenge. “It’s just a shirt. Don’t go reading into it.”

But Chika was already charging forward to assault the poor first-year student.

“Reddie!” Chika shouted, dancing around the girl as a cultist would around a fire.

The girl flinched and held her hands up as if she could hide herself. Reinforcements came swift. A girl neither of them had seen before intervened, almost physically pushing Chika away.

“Leave Ruby alone!”

The poor girl – Ruby – breathed a sigh of relief. “Hanamaru-chan,” she said.

“Oh,” Chika said, unperturbed. “Do you play Endless too?”

Ruby lowered her hands a fraction like Chika had spoken the passcode. “Endless?”

“Yes, yes!” Chika said, doing a little jump. “Do you want to join an Endless club?”

Unsurprisingly, Ruby was ushered away by Hanamaru, and Chika was left standing there maybe still expecting an answer.

* * *

It hadn’t occurred to Yō that things would repeat themselves. However, day two of the semester rolled around and there they were, inside school grounds before morning classes, talking about Endless Oratorio, when Chika spotted the same red-haired girl standing in the same spot with that same uncomfortable posture like a dog told to sit by an owner with a treat who then walked out of sight.

“Don’t-” Yō managed before Chika did.

“Ruby!” Chika shouted.

Ruby flinched but didn’t try to hide.

“So, so, have you thought about it? Want to join the club?”

“Um-”

“You can shine as bright as the brightest stars! You’ll be amazing and amazed! So, so, what do you think? Hey, how long have you played? What class do you play? What’s your specialization? Are you in a guild yet?”

“I-”

Someone different came to Ruby’s aid. It was a taller girl with long, black hair. She carried an air of self-importance, or danger, and her eyes were locked on Chika like Chika’s were on Ruby. “Aha! So the perpetrator returns to the scene of the crime!”

“Aw, man. The popo,” Chika said, doing a good job of instantly admitting to her guilt while simultaneously sounding like an American from the eighties.

“You’re coming with me.”

“I din’ do nothing wrong!” Chika proclaimed.

“There are witnesses who would say otherwise.”

Chika looked around. They had, indeed, attracted a lot of attention. When she looked at Yō, Yō shrugged.

So, holding out her hands, wrists together, Chika said, “I get it. Game’s over, man. I won’ resist, then.”

The girl looked at her hands and smiled. “I’m glad you understand. Get moving, then. And no funny business.”

Chika obeyed.

And the greatest part was, Chika had no idea she’d let herself be arrested by the student council president. For some reason, Dia Kurosawa wasn’t wearing the student council armband on her uniform. Yō wished she could see Chika’s developing expression as she was led into the building, up the stairs, and then finally into the student council’s office.

The last Yō heard was Chika muttering something about “can’t ‘ford no lawyer for ‘dis.”

* * *

Chika wasn’t usually into role-play with strangers, but she had watched an old American cop movie late last night and, well, when accused of being something as great as a perpetrator, she knew the exact lines to follow. What else could she do, really? But her senior was taking it seriously. Too seriously. Chika was expecting an interrogation in an empty classroom full of barely-restrained laughter, but the girl kept leading her deeper into the building, passing multiple rooms that would have been perfect.

“The stairs?” Chika complained.

“Just be glad I left the wrist restraints in my desk.”

“Uh-huh,” Chika said as they went up.

And up.

And up.

Third floor? This was some serious commitment. But Chika wouldn’t back down first. Especially when this girl was managing it with such a straight face.

They were now in completely unfamiliar territory. Chika avoided this floor – and the building itself, whenever possible – because it was home to the student council. They had all their rules and codes and laws that Chika just wasn’t a fan of.

“I don’t think we should be fooling around up here,” Chika said.

“I quite agree.”

“So...”

“As I said, no funny moves.”

“You said no funny business.”

The girl shoved her left at an intersection. “Harassing first-years is unacceptable. You should be ashamed of yourself. As a sophomore, you represent everyone when interacting with the first-years. Everything you do has a dramatic effect on their school life.”

“It wasn’t harassment. It was recruitment!”

“There is no cultist activity allowed on school grounds.”

“Why does everyone else get to be called a club member but I have to be a cultist?” Chika whined.

“A... club?” the girl said, finally intrigued. “You were recruiting for a club?”

“Yes, a club. The best club!”

They stopped outside an office labelled ‘student council president’. Chika tried to ignore it. The girl cleared her throat, and, when Chika didn’t move to enter, stepped closer so she was practically breathing on the back of Chika’s neck.

“Go ahead,” she said in a low voice.

Chika shivered. “I don’t think we should go in there,” she said, desperately hanging onto the ‘play’ part of role-play.

“I think it’s a fine idea.”

“I’m not ready.”

“Nobody ever is.”


	6. Riko

Chika made it to morning class three minutes early, instead of the planned thirty. She slumped into her desk chair and exhaled an end-of-the-day sigh. Yō almost felt bad for her.

“Have fun?” Yō asked.

“Did you know she was the president?”

“Yes.”

“You left me for the wolves! She was, like, all mad and stuff, and told me I can’t harass first years anymore!”

“So you admit that’s what you were doing?”

“No!”

“You could have saved yourself, if you had looked at the school newsletter instead of throwing it away.”

“But that involves reading,” Chika said.

“Not in this case. Dia’s picture is on the front page.”

Again, Chika sighed. “She’s like the definition of cool beauty, huh?”

“I-is that so?” Yō said. The comment caught Yō off-guard. It wasn’t often Chika spoke like that, but it was true; Dia had this traditional Japanese beauty, as well as a stoic strength. Normally, both of those would have been critical to her election, but in reality she was in her position because she was a socialite. Still, Yō was jealous. Maybe she should grow her hair out. Chika seemed to like long hair.

“But that’s all ruined because she was cheating,” Chika continued. “She wasn’t even wearing the armband thingy.”

“Don’t look for others to blame. And don’t let her know you’re recruiting for a video game club. Not at least until you have the required signatures.”

“Why does that matter?”

“The president’s from an old, traditional fishing family. She can’t like video games.”

“But it’s Endless! Everyone plays it!”

“I’ll bet you a thousand yen she doesn’t.”

Chika groaned and dropped her head onto her desk. “Life was so much easier when I had Panini.”

“We’ll get it back,” Yō said. “Never mind that Panini had no effect on your day-to-day life.”

“It made me happy.”

“Did you read about what happened? After the dragon killed us, it landed in a small village in the east, near the desert. Some guilds arrived, but, and I quote, ‘it was like lemmings’.”

“Not tangerines?”

“The rodent, not the fruit. For some reason, there were a bunch of level ten accounts throwing themselves at the dragon and dying. It made for quite a scene. Anyways, the dragon didn’t stay long enough for the biggest guilds to get a good shot at it. It burned the village and hasn’t been seen since.”

“It’s hiding!” Chika said. “It’s a coward!”

“Its bloodthirst was satiated. You owe those level tens. The dragon might have stuck around long enough for someone to pull out your swords, if not for them. Now, we just need to prepare for a dragon hunt – I did some research on it. Its home is outside Oratorio.”

“Outside the world?”

“The _known_ world.

Chika groaned. “What’s that even mean? Are we going to space?”

“Here,” Yō said, holding out her phone. “It’s a transcript of an interview with a developer from three weeks ago. Read it.”

“Read it to me,” Chika said, her forehead glued to the desk.

Yō sighed. “The general belief is that the world of Oratorio is bordered on the north and west by the ocean, on the east by the desert, and on the south by a mountain range. Indeed, walk into any store or talk to any cartographer, and that’s the map you’ll meet. But these are not hard limits; there are no hard limits. Brave and well-prepared adventurers may go beyond, into the uncharted, to find... unique results.”

“Sounds like a trick,” Chika muttered.

“It’s not easy. There’s a relatively new guild, Frontier Fighters, that is dedicated to exploring beyond the known world. They publish their findings. The further you get from the center of Choir, the weaker user magic is and the stronger environment magic becomes. There are frequent natural disasters, unstable magic areas, and mutated monsters. Here,” Yō said, shaking Chika’s shoulder, “you’ll want to at least raise your head to see this.”

Chika did, and Yō pressed play on a video. It was from a live-streamed adventure. The Frontier Fighters had built a custom boat and sailed far north.

Visibility was near zero as rain pounded down on their ship. Gray clouds above rumbled, and the boat was dwarfed by waves. But the weather was the least of their worries. Something like a massive sword came down on the ship, cutting it clean in half. Players scrambled as the waves began taking the ship’s remains down under. There was no counterplay to it. There was no survival. All their actions were meaningless, yet they still attempted to regroup and fight back. The second attack came, and it hit a massive shield belonging to the guild’s tank. For at least one frame, the attack was identifiable: it was a tentacle. And then the deck beneath the player’s feet broke and he crashed through into the water below.

The battle raged on every front: the monster could effortlessly fight multiple players, and did so with impunity. Tentacles snapped through the rain and air, picking up players, tossing them, squishing them, flattening them.

“Kraken,” Chika said.

“Yeah,” Yō said quietly.

Just watching the video, Yō was overtaken by the helplessness of the situation. It was hard to imagine participating in a fight like that. The video ended quickly – the player recording the battle surviving perhaps the longest.

Chika said, “So the dragon is either in the ocean, the desert, or the mountain?”

“Traditional wisdom would say the mountain,” Yō said, “but we don’t want to make an assumption and waste all our resources tackling the mountains.”

“I just hope it’s not the ocean.”

“The other locations will have equally as dangerous enemies.”

“Then what do we do?”

“More research.”

“It sounds like work.” Chika groaned. “And now we’re going to start getting homework, too. My life sucks.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do the thinking. You just prepare.”

“For the ocean, desert, and mountain? How am I supposed to do that?”

“You have a unique advantage. Since you’re a swordswoman, you won’t be as affected by the lack of control over magic as we get further from Choir. Work on...” she searched for a word to describe what they needed. “Sustainability. We’re going far and what we carry will need to get us there, win us the fight, and get us back alive.”

“Okay!” Chika said, brightening at the clear goal.

The bell rang, signalling an end to their impromptu meeting.

* * *

After school, Chika didn’t make it back home immediately. A warm afternoon fugue and the sounds of the waves pulled her in until she was walking in the wet sand at the ocean’s edge.

Between the club and dragon, she was lucky to have Yō at her side. Retrieving Panini seemed hopeless at first, but now she was able to envision it – slaying krakens and dragons and swimming into underwater ruins, whereupon she would see Panini stuck in a rock, and, like a king-to-be, she would pull it out and point it up towards the surface. The power of its deliciousness would propel her upwards and she would burst out of the water and soar through the sky back home.

In her daydreaming, she had walked to the edge of a pier. Looking out, she noted how it was almost as beautiful as the sunset in Oratorio. But real life rarely lived up to digital imagery. It wasn’t just the HDR rendering, camera lens effects, and dynamic fields of view – it was the impossibility of the physics in the water, weird and winged fish, the unexplored world waiting beneath the waves, hiding secrets and treasures and more...

She reached out towards the ocean. In the distance, a fish or something jumped. It had no wings, and consequently flopped back into the water. The ripples-

-the footsteps on the pier-

-magnified outwards, and Chika wondered if – if she reached a little further – if she wished a little harder-

“Don’t do it!”

A fish with legs – or something – was charging down the pier. She spun around at the sound. Indeed, she was being attacked. It was a girl her age, so not really a fish, but still, Chika took a step backwards. Beyond the dock, her foot met air, and she windmilled her arms like it could help, and the not-fish-girl reached out, catching one of her hands like a heroine. And then momentum did its thing.

And, since she was falling already, she shouted, “Panini, come to me!”

The invocation failed and they fell into the water together.

It wasn’t cold, but it was still unpleasant to go swimming in clothes. Her school uniform soaked in water and made her less agile than a soggy noodle – because, actually, soggy noodles were pretty agile. In the same way that a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube-man was agile. In any case, she flailed trying to pull herself back up onto the dock because it wasn’t like she was exercising her upper body strength often, and ultimately she had to follow her almost-heroine in swimming back to shore.

There, they lay sprawled out on the beach, knowing they were going to have very sandy bathrooms later that evening.

“Panini? Isn’t that a sandwich?” the girl finally said.

“It’s a sword, silly,” Chika said.

“Oh. Right.” A three-second pause, and then: “How is it a sword?”

Chika frowned. She didn’t quite know how to answer that. “The developers made it so. Oh and, also, it might be relevant, it’s a weapon in Endless Oratorio.”

The girl made an expression of discomfort.

“You play, don’t you?” Chika said. She was pretty sure she had a good sense of it, between this red-head and that red-head.

“A bit,” the girl said.

“What class are you?”

“I craft musical instruments.”

“Eh?”

“It’s an important, yet easily overlooked job.”

“It sounds boring.”

“It’s relaxing,” the girl said. “Peaceful.”

“But you fight, too?”

“Not really. I did in the beginning, for levels and money. But I’ve found my niche, now. And I’m quite good at it, if I do say so myself.”

“So, what class are you?”

“You really have a one-track mind, don’t you?” the girl laughed.

“Yep,” Chika said, and she suddenly understood why she had felt so uneasy recently. She was split between forming a competitive team and rescuing Panini. Both required dedication, and she was trying to achieve them both at once. Add in the burden of school, and it was too much. “A one-track mind.”

“I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“No, not at all. Better to do one thing well than two things badly, yeah? It’s like your instrument-making thingy. You’re good at it because you’ve put all your time into it.”

“Exactly.” The girl smiled and looked off into the horizon. “But it’s not always like that, you know? You can put your everything into something – give it your all, and more – and still fail.”

Chika didn’t want to fail at either of her goals. If she did, then it would be back to the beginning. Nothing would have changed, except for the passage of time. A scary thought.

“I’m sorry. That was rude, too.”

“It was,” Chika declared. “Very.”

“Ahhh...” The girl looked at a loss for words. She squirmed in discomfort.

“To make it up to me, lemme know what class you play.”

The girl finally looked up and realized Chika was actually a genius – at least, that’s what Chika imagined she was thinking – and she sighed in relief.

“If you must know, I’m a bard.”

“Oh.” Chika thought about it a minute. “That sounds boring.”

“Yes, you’ve said that before.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re a boring person?” Chika offered.

“Thanks.”

“I mean, you’re actually really interesting. You pushed a complete stranger into the ocean.”

“It didn’t happen like that.”

“Really, that’s something I would do.” Chika laughed, but it very quickly turned to horror. “Wait – hold on – I didn’t actually do it, did I? My brain isn’t in complete denial and has swapped our places, has it? Oh, god, how can we ever know what’s real?”

The girl, either at a loss for words or trying to protect Chika, did not answer.

“What if I didn’t know how to swim?” Chika said. “Or – or you didn’t know how – or whoever was pushed in didn’t know how?”

“Everyone in Uchiura knows how to swim.”

Chika thought about it and decided it was true and felt a little better about the whole situation. “Okay! Okay.” She took a breath. “Ok. Oh, I never got your name. My name is Chika Takami. What’s yours?”

“Riko.”

“You live around here, Riko?”

“Yes, I do. I moved here recently.”

Chika stood up. “Then I’ll see you again?”

“Probably. You’re leaving already?”

“I have something to do,” Chika said, though she wasn’t sure which it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riko has red hair. Bite me.


	7. Club, Cute, Bard, Ocean

The decision was made for her.

Rumours spread like wildfire through the school. Enrolment was too low and funding was cut. The school couldn’t keep operating; they were going to shut down by the end of the year. Chika tried to ignore this as an adult problem that would resolve itself, as those sorts of things were wont to do, but when everyone was talking about it and even the teachers looked worried, eventually she had to face the facts – er – the rumours.

Schools around Japan were closing at an alarming rate, as education moved into Endless Oratorio. The economics just made sense. But as much as Chika loved Endless and hated school, it didn’t make sense to her. She wanted to see her friends and touch her friends and smell her friends and this was just starting to sound creepy but the point was that she needed to experience people first hand. Spending the next year alternating days at a school in Numazu and a school in Endless just didn’t appeal to her. Uranohoshi Girl’s Academy was where she belonged. And they were threatening it. Whoever _they_ were.

However, Chika was an optimist and an opportunist. She filled out a form and went to her least favourite place in the school. From her last experience, the student council room was like the bottom of the ocean: dark, hard to breathe, muffled sounds. Also, it had a kraken. Chika forged onwards because she’d once heard it was best to face her fears head-on. And because Yō had expressly told her not to. She knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Chika entered. Unfortunately, Dia was behind a desk so head-butting her wasn’t possible. If she could bait Dia around – maybe offer her a tangerine and hold it just out of reach?

“It’s you again,” Dia said.

“Should have arrested me the first time.”

Dia fished in the desk drawer and pulled out wrist cuffs.

“Wow. You were not joking.”

“I never do,” Dia said. “Now, if you’d like, take a step closer.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m a law-abiding citizen today.’

“What did you want, then?” Dia said, putting the wrist cuffs away. “I’m quite busy.”

“Tada!” Chika exclaimed, handing over a club creation form.

Dia took an eighth of a look at the sheet before dropping it on the desk. Actually, she missed the desk and it fell in the recycle bin. Chika helpfully took it out and placed it on the desk.

“Absolutely not,” Dia said.

“Not?” Chika echoed. She tried to think of what that word could possibly mean. “Not today? I’ll come back tomorrow, if you’re too busy.”

The optimism wasn’t appreciated. Dia slapped her hand on the paper. “Do you want to bring shame to this school?”

“I want to save it! I’m going to win Oratorio Live and make the school famous!”

“You would place no better than if a worm and a slug teamed up.”

“Am... am I the worm or the slug in this scenario? And is Yō the other?”

“Does it matter-”

“Oh, oh! I wanna be the slug if it’s all the same to you.”

“You’re insane. To come here with such an audacious request. You should be ashamed of yourself. It’s-”

Shame seemed to be a big deal with the student council president. Chika thought about it a moment and then filed it away for future reference. Besides, she was never ashamed of herself. Well, there was that one time she snuck downstairs for a midnight snack and ate a little too much, but that was an important life lesson. Oh, oh, and there was that other time where she was clearing Scaled Worms out of a farmer’s field and went AFK because her older sister had brought home cookies made by a friend and then she got distracted by the television for a few hours and when she returned she discovered she had been killed by a chicken.

Stupid, aggressive chickens. Yō hadn’t let her live that one down.

“-and if you don’t understand that much, you might as well delete your account!”

“Ehh?” Chika said, because she was pretty sure she missed some serious stuff.

“If you want to learn from this embarrassment, go participate in a local tournament. See firsthand the difference between yourself and professionals.”

“A local tournament? Got it!”

* * *

Yō instinctively knew Chika had ignored her advice and paid the student council president a second visit. And in spite of this, she was curious to see how badly it had gone. One of the great things about Chika was how fascinating it was to watch her bumble through conversations with her teachers, peers, and Endless enemies and somehow always come out on top or at least never the worse for wear.

During break between the morning classes, she approached Chika.

“How did it go?”

“Good I think.” Somehow said like Chika didn’t know. “We need to win a local tournament, first.”

Yō was surprised. “And then she’ll okay the club?”

“Yeah. Easy, huh?” Chika pulled out her phone and did some searching. “There’s one this weekend.”

Oddly convenient. Locals tournaments weren’t so common, as far as Yō knew. Though they might be ramping up, as Oratorio Live approached. But the soon timing wasn’t such a blessing. “Will you be ready in time?”

“Uhhh,” Chika said. She stopped tapping away on the screen. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be? Is there something I should know? Because I kinda just signed us up.”

“There’s nothing you don’t already know,” Yō said. “But... you got a new weapon, right?”

“Weapon.” Chika paused. “Like, a sword?”

“Because you lost Panini and your best sword to the dragon.”

“Panini and my _second_ best sword.”

“Panini and your highest damage sword.”

“Panini,” Chika said, content to focus on her favourite part of the sentence while ignoring reality.

“And your real sword. The one you’d normally take into battle. What are you replacing it with?”

“...Do you have a sword I can borrow?”

“I have a giant’s knife. It’s not durable, but you could swing it around about four times before it breaks.”

“I’d rather do the trading side-quest to get the unbreakable one.”

“That’ll take seven years.”

“Argh!” Chika collapsed into the nearest chair. “Time sucks. How am I going to find a smith who can make me one before the weekend?”

“How much gold do you have?”

“Will you pity gift me gold?”

“No.”

“I’m a cute girl, though. Doesn’t that merit me free stuff?”

Y ō fumbled the response when Chika pouted. “No,” she finally managed, looking away.

“Well, then, what about you? You lost your bow.”

“The ammunition is more important, and I generally don’t custom order my arrows. I can bulk buy them from a store. It  _would_ be nice to get a new bow-” Or maybe a different weapon altogether. “-before the tournament, but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t.”

“So it’s fine if my world ends, so long as yours is okay?”

* * *

On the next break, Chika was bemoaning a lack of teammates. Four was the minimum to participate in the local tournament – which she’d somehow already signed up for – and most competitive teams had at least eight and usually around twelve. Yō was growing concerned as she watched Chika mentally evaluating potential recruits within the very classroom.

“You can’t just recruit anyone, if you’re serious about this, Chika.”

“Huh? Why not? It’s called talent discovery.”

“I’m not even talking about skill,” Yō said. “People can’t change roles easily. They’ve played a single class – a single specialization – their whole lives. You need to recruit based on the roles you need filled. There’s a reason the meta exists.”

“But it’s hard enough just recruiting!” Chika complained. “And besides, aren’t we good as long as we have a sword swinger and a spell slinger?”

“I’m not going to pretend to know how competitive works, but I was reading some stuff on the forums. For example, last year, every team in the top ten had a bard. The world championships looked similar – so it wasn’t just a lower level thing. Bards are critical to team play.”

“Wha? Really? That’s so cool! It’s like having a karaoke machine travelling with the party!”

“People say it’s impossible to be competitive without one,” Yō said. “Their unique buffs make a huge difference in large-scale fights.”

“We could do free karaoke whenever we wanted! Even in the middle of battle!”

“This isn’t Symphogears.”

“No,” Chika said, frowning. “But it’s still about singing, isn’t it?”

“Endless Oratorio is an alternate universe, so drop it, would you?”

* * *

“I’ve been thinking some more about it,” Yō said.

“Hmm?” Chika sat up a little straighter and put on her best smile. She knew Yō would come around eventually. “You’ll gift me gold?”

“Remember the status effects the dragon applied on us?”

Chika tried, but there were so many that they just overflowed into a grimace. “All of them?”

“Just some of them. Some of them stood out. For example, Volcanic Ash.”

“The one that ruined visibility.”

“To have an ash aura, wouldn’t you think it lives in a volcano?”

“Maybe,” Chika said, realizing Yō was maybe both pretty and pretty smart. And she also had some kind of magical powers associated with her salute. Not fair.

And how exactly was Chika supposed to say she was giving up on Panini? She already felt guilty for losing it, but if she told Yō, she’d be pestered by ‘are you sure’s’ and whatnots until she started second-guessing herself. Oratorio Live needed to be her top and only focus.

Yō continued, oblivious to her troubles, “Our choices for the dragon hunt are the desert, the ocean, or the mountains. This eliminates the desert.”

“And the ocean, too!”

“There were a couple other strange status effects,” Yō said, shaking her head. “Aquaphobic and Wrinkled Skin. If the geography of Oratorio is roughly equivalent to that of earth’s, then the majority of volcanoes are underwater, at divergent tectonic plate boundaries. A volcano under the water would account for all these status effects. So, in conclusion, I think the dragon’s home is in a submarine volcano in the ocean.”

“You’re so smart!”

Yō smiled and saluted in response.

* * *

It wasn’t intelligence – it was hard work. For such a simple conclusion, Yō had worked hours on it, reviewing the scant data they had from the dragon’s two visits to the mapped world and reading countless forum posts. She had decided early on to commit herself to this. Chika had so carelessly proclaimed it as her mission, but Yō knew the truth. Losing Panini hurt. It was an item she earned herself – though maybe under suspicious circumstances – and something that she carried on her person at all times. It was a fundamental part of Chika’s character.

And Yō didn’t like that Chika had to pretend nothing was wrong. Yō didn’t want her to bear it any longer than necessary. Together, they would slay the dragon and get back Panini.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, my trick is to mix references and nonsense so you never know if you’re missing something or if I’m just insane.


	8. Tangerines and New Girl

Chika tried the tangerines first. It was true what they said about facing your fears: she wasn’t as scared of the student council president’s room on the third visit. In fact, she felt comfortable enough to enter without knocking. Something Dia would later describe as ‘having the audacity to barge in.’ But the lack of warning was critical, because if there was one thing better than a free tangerine, it was a _surprise_ free tangerine.

“Dia!” she declared, holding out the tangerine in offering. The clouds parted, casting a warm sunlight through the window onto the tangerine. Quietly, in the background, angels began to sing.

Dia looked up from her papers, brushed a lock of hair behind her ears, stared for three seconds, and then resumed her paperwork. The clouds pulled back in, the light left, and the choir of angels stopped singing.

Chika, undeterred, took another step forward and held the tangerine at arm’s length like she was feeding a dangerous animal. Did orangutans eat tangerines? They sounded like a mix between oranges and tangerines, so it was a safe bet.

After another pause, Dia said, “An orange?”

“It’s a tangerine!” Chika said, horrified.

Dia shrugged. “Citrus.”

“Of course the student council president would watch that.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Now, will you sign the club form?”

“Is... is the orange supposed to help convince me?”

“It’s a bribe!” Chika said.

“A bribe? Surely you can’t be serious?”

“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”

Chika then learned that orangutans – and not just bouncers – could violently eject people from rooms.

* * *

After lunch, the teacher had an announcement:

“Class, we have someone new joining us today.”

She had that Tokyo girl look. Also, the look of a girl who wouldn’t hesitate to push someone into the ocean.

Chika was on her feet before she knew it.

“It’s a miracle!” she shouted. “Riko! Let’s become Endless pros together!”

“I’m sorry, but I refuse.”

* * *

Chika’s logic was understandable. Riko’s refusal had happened so quickly that she had forgotten it had happened at all. So, after school, Yō watched round two.

“No thank you,” Riko said.

“Are you sure?” Chika said, injecting enough doubt to make even Yō question it. “We have tangerines and lollipops.”

“I’m positive.”

“You aren’t even going to ask about the tangerines and lollipops?”

“Is – is it code?”

“No.”

“I... I don’t get it.”

“That’s fine,” Chika said, patting her on the shoulder in consolation. “You can get it, though, if you join. Both, actually. I’d never force you to pick between the two.”

At this point, Yō wanted to note for posterity’s sake, she hadn’t received a tangerine, lollipop, or any sort of bribe for joining Chika’s crusade.

Before Riko could stand up, Chika maneuvered behind her chair, blocking her in. Yō took a couple steps away and sat at her desk. If there were witnesses, she didn’t want to be accused of being involved.

“What?” Chika said, noticing this. “I’m pretty sure this is fine; it’s not a _first-_ year.”

“You need to learn how to stop confessing to your crimes,” Yō said.

But Chika wasn’t listening. She had already refocused on Riko, who looked mildly amused or annoyed.

“You wouldn’t even need to fight,” Chika said, “just join the club – though I’m sure you’ll wanna fight after seeing how fun it is – but seriously we need five players – we need more, if we want to participate in Oratorio Live! – but it’s not like you’d be a number – you’d be a bard – not that I only want you because you’re a bard – or a number – but apparently bards are pretty important – but if we’re talking about importance, then having enough players is important too – but you wouldn’t just be a bard or a number, you’d be more! – you get what I’m saying?”

“No.”

“You’re important!”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“You can help us save the school!”

“What?”

The poor transfer student. Chika was the worst person to learn this from.

“We’re going to win and win and win until we can’t win anymore, and then everyone will know about Uranohoshi and enrollment will go up and the school won’t close!”

“The school is closing?” Riko said. “But – but I just got here...”

“Then you need to fight! Fight for what you believe is right!”

Never mind a cult, this was definitely a crusade in the making.

Riko looked surprisingly distraught at the thought of losing a school she hadn’t even spent a full day in. And Chika was completely oblivious to this, beyond using it as leverage. Yō watched in amazement as the next few minutes unfolded. Chika was smart enough to adapt her plan; she shifted into friend-making mode and starting asking Riko questions about herself and Tokyo. And gradually, ever so slowly, she got more touchy. From sitting on Riko’s desk to grabbing her hand when they discovered they both loved the same bands and playfully shoving her shoulders when she revealed her indifference to citrus fruits. Despite being strangers, at the end of ten minutes – Yō checked the time on her phone – Chika was waterfall braiding Riko’s hair. It was so suave it was scary.

Eventually, the conversation returned to Endless Oratorio.

“I can’t believe you’d turn me down like this, after making me so wet,” Chika said.

Yō’s mouth dropped. Surely she’d misheard? She looked to Riko and only grew more horrified: Riko was blushing and looking down at her desk.

“I’ve already said, it wasn’t like that,” Riko said. “You’re the one who can’t control herself.”

“I wouldn’t have taken that step if not for your aggression.”

“Enough!” Yō shouted, slamming a fist on her desk and standing in a single motion.

“Yō?” Chika said.

She hadn’t meant to do that. Really, there was no reason for it. It was obviously a misunderstanding. And, sure, Chika had never braided her hair, but she didn’t have hair like Riko did.

“Are... are you okay?” Chika said.

“Ah, sorry,” Yō said, stumbling over her words. She motioned to her cellphone resting on her desk. “I was reading something on my phone.”

“Eh? About what? You sounded really angry – I wanna know what would make you have an outburst like that.”

Now wasn’t the time, Chika, for a sudden desire to know how others ticked. Riko was also watching her closely.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yō said, resetting her expression. “Go back to your... whatever it is you were doing.”

“Uh-huh,” Chika said, though she obeyed.

Yō focused more on her phone, this time, than the conversation next to her. She scanned every possible forum for conversation about the Hyllish dragon, and read theories on which class was the best to counter it. Of course, dragons weren’t exactly countered, but some classes did better. When someone mentioned accuracy-spec’d utility archer, she ruthlessly attacked the comment with an anonymous account. It didn’t help her feel any better.

Meanwhile, Chika was working herself up to a mental breakdown of sorts, after having been refused so many times.

“At least help us recruit,” Chika pleaded, close to tears. “I’m so lonely!”

Maybe that was the trick – crying – because Riko finally gave in. “Fine. I’ll help, if you’ll stop bothering me. But I’m not joining.”

“Great!” Chika said, wiping away non-existent tears. “I have a plan! See, I’ve realized the problem in my recruiting: I’m always approaching them. Instead, they need to approach us.”

Lonely? Yō was a nobody. It fuelled her desire even more. She _would_ find the dragon. Even if it killed her – well, it did, but even if it killed her a second time, and a third time, and so on.

“Them approaching you?” Yō said, crossing her arms and maybe a little more belligerent than usual “Nobody is that stupid.”

“First,” Chika said, ignoring her pessimism, “we need to go somewhere out of the way, where they can’t be heard crying for help.”

Unfortunately for Riko, she misinterpreted it as a joke and smiled. Eventually, the girl would learn.

“I’ll have no part in this,” Yō said. “We need at least one upstanding member on the team.”

“I’m the one up standing,” Chika said. “You’re sitting.”

Yō looked away, knowing she couldn’t keep a straight face. It never ceased to impress her how easily Chika could sound like an idiot and still make her laugh.

With Riko’s agreement to help – an inevitability, honestly – they packed their things. Riko left first, citing chores to do at home. Chika followed her out, leaving Yō alone in the classroom. She went through her bag uselessly, making sure everything was there, and then stood up and pushed in her chair. It wasn’t too late. Most clubs would still be active at this time of day. She wondered where she would end up. It was hard to imagine the student council president signing off on Chika’s club, and they were missing all the recruitment activities ongoing.

Not that she would mind ending up in the going-home club. Maybe she would take up high diving again, even if Chika no longer watched her.

As the last student in the classroom, she ensured all the chairs were pushed in and the chalkboard was clean, and then she shut off the lights and closed the door.

A hand on her shoulder surprised her.

“Ready?” Chika said.

“I thought you had already left,” Yō said.

“Of course not. I was waiting to leave with you.”

“And Riko?”

Chika shrugged. “It’s not like we live close to each other or anything.”

Yō smiled. Of course not. She wasn’t going to lose her best friend that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chika and Dia will go through every Airplane! joke by the end of this. Okay, that’s a lie, but Chika wouldn’t be opposed to it.


	9. Lollipops and Love

“Me and Riko are neighbours!” Chika announced.

* * *

On her fourth visit, Chika brought lollipops. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much planned as happenstance. The lollipops in her pocket were for another purpose. This time, reflecting on past mistakes, she knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Dia said only because she didn’t know who it was.

Chika took a step inside and inhaled deeply.

“Chika Takami, requesting to speak with the student council president!” she announced.

“Request denied.”

“My club has a right to seek an audience with the president.”

“Your club, you say?”

Chika swallowed. “Yes, my club.”

“I don’t recall authorizing the formation of a new club.”

“You didn’t, in fact. But my club does not recognize the school rule that requires a club to have five members. Also our club holds certain beliefs, such as an exemption from the limited recruitment days and advertising rules.”

“I’m sorry, did you have to look up the definition of ‘cult’ in a dictionary to come up with this argument?” Dia asked.

“Also, we need a budget and room.”

“Listen,” Dia said. “You’ll learn this weekend, at the tournament, the truth. What you want is impossible, and it’s better to quit now, before you regret it.”

“It seemed impossible for _muse_ , too, but they succeeded!”

“Muse?”

“Yes, they-”

“You dare to speak their name?”

Chika thought about it and Dia’s less-than-friendly tone and then said, “I don’t see why not.”

“Because they stand so far above that even to compare yourself to them is disrespectful!”

“Aha, so you know who they are!”

“Everyone does. It only shows your ignorance if you think muse is not a household name.”

“Could – could it be – are you a fan of muse? And you must play Endless, too? You should join us! Just imagine: you could compete on the same stage as them!”

“You’re no longer welcome in this office. Now, leave.”

“W-wait! I have lollipops!”

She tried holding them out, but the clouds and choir weren’t cooperating, once again affirming her belief that tangerines were sacred gifts from the gods.

Dia momentarily forgot her anger, and said, “Why?”

“Yeah... that’s about what I expected. But it’s probably for the best. They’re for Ruby, anyways.”

“... who?” Dia’s voice turned dark as she moved to stand up.

“Ahahaha, never mind.” Chika turned to leave. “See you tomorrow!”

“Hold on!”

In an instant, Chika held on... to the club application form, as she presented it once again.

“You’ve changed your mind!?”

“Of course not,” Dia said, slapping the paper aside. “What did you say about Ruby?”

“Oh! It’s that cute little first year you arrested me in front of-”

“You had better stay away from Ruby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chika taunted. “Did you have dibs on her?”

“Yes, in fact, I do. And I did since the moment she was born.”

“Oh,” Chika said. She frowned, and slowly worked on it. “So you’re... her mother?”

“Wrong! Her sister, you idiot.”

“Oh, good. I was a little worried, there.”

“You should still be worried. A lot worried.”

“Because of Citrus?”

“What?”

“Stepsister?”

“She’s my full sister.”

“I won’t judge either way, promise.”

“I wouldn’t care if you did.”

So bold. Chika admired her. “Oh, if she’s your sister, then you totally play Endless, don’t you? Don’t deny it!”

“Irrelevant.”

Actually, it was quite relevant. Chika had a bet riding on it. “Join us! We can have the unstoppable sisters on our team! I bet you guys have amazing synergy.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, so modest,” Chika said, waving a hand dismissively.

“We’ve... we’ve never played together.”

“Ehh? How’s that even possible? Are you, like, the worst older sister ever? Even Mito has played with me. And she’s evil. She tried to cut off my toes. But at least she played with me!”

“Th-the-the _worst_ older sister?” Dia said.

And she sounded more horrified than angry. So Chika latched onto it. The bait, however unintentional, had been laid. Now she needed to take a step back and wait.

“Maybe the second worst?” Chika said. “Like, bad, but not terrible? But don’t worry, I understand your problem. You have this cool beauty persona to keep up. Not to mention it’d be all awkward suddenly wanting to play with her.”

Like Dia forgot who she was talking to, she nodded her head with a distant expression. “Yes, how would I even go about it?”

“But if circumstances happened to normally lead to it, then there would be no problem.”

“Normally? How would I do that?”

“Like, if you both happened to join the same Endless club.”

Chika held her breath.

Dia’s eyes narrowed as she returned to reality. “Do I look stupid to you? You actually think that would work?”

“It was a fifty-fifty,” Chika said, exhaling.

“Those are generous odds. How do you figure?”

“Either it would work or it wouldn’t.”

It didn’t.

* * *

After school, Chika and Yō visited Kanan.

The diving shop was a good place to lose track of time under the sun. So long as customers weren’t around, they were always free to laze on the veranda. When Kanan saw them, she took her break and brought them iced barley tea and the three of them sat at a table in the shade of a large parasol. Terms of service contracts had more substance to them than an average conversation with Chika, so credit to Kanan that she was able to keep reading. Yō was content to not participate, and instead half listen to the seagulls and half listen to Chika and try to guess which was which.

“The school is in danger of closing,” Chika was saying some time after the pleasantries ended.

Kanan nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“It’s been like this for years. At least if it closes now we have the choice of Endless or Numazu.”

“Don’t you want to keep going to Uranohoshi?”

“Of course. But there’s not much I can do about it. Besides, by the time I return there won’t even be a full year left.”

Kanan was a perfectly balanced person. When they’d been younger, she’d been capable of joining in on the fun but also able to rein Chika and Yō in when it went too far. A voice of reason with a good sense of humour, she was someone Yō greatly admired.

“There’s lots you can do!” Chika said. “You can fight with us! Never give up!”

And thus began the recruitment spiel. After Kanan’s initial shock at Chika’s ambitions, she deflected expertly, with comments about how she was too busy with the shop, and how it wasn’t a good time at the moment.

This was a good example of Chika’s desperation. They had never played with Kanan before, yet Chika had somehow decided it was the greatest idea ever to recruit her. Never mind they didn’t even know what class she played.

“You’d shine so bright,” Chika said, “just like when you’re diving at night!”

“It’s called a flashlight.”

“It’s called Oratorio Live!”

Kanan sipped her drink. “You sure aim high.”

“Of course I do,” Chika said, closing her eyes as if to visualize it. “That way, if I miss, I’ll still hit the stars!”

“Only after spending countless millennia drifting cold and alone through a vast empty space, exposed to radiation from cosmic rays.”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

Kanan smiled and glanced at her diving watch. “My break’s over,” she said. “You two take your time. It’s been a while since you’ve dropped by. Enjoy the sun.”

As the perfect image of a responsible adult doing responsible things, she wandered back into the shop. That left the two of them to drink and sit on the veranda looking out to the sea.

“Oh, guess what?” Chika said eventually.

Yō, listening to the ocean’s waves more than the girl next to her, said, “Hmm?”

“It’s crazy: me and Riko are neighbours!”

“You’re neighbours?” Yō reiterated, her eyes snapping back to Chika. “As in, live next to each other?”

“Yup! Who would’a thunk it?”

“Yeah,” Yō said, putting on a smile. “Haha. What are the chances?”

Chika continued talking, but Yō didn’t hear. And not because of any distractions.

There was never a point where it needed to be asked if Yō was with Chika all the way. Whether it was swimming at sunrise in the cold like a fool or joining a club to save the school. They were always together. And that was the way Yō liked it.

But if there was one thing Yō couldn’t like about Chika, it was her willingness to abandon the old in favour of the new. Chika would be reading a serialized manga and would recommend it to Yō, and then in two weeks when Yō had finally finished reading the most recent volume, Chika’s response would be, “Up to date? On what? Oh, I’m reading _Secret Blanket Society_ now.” Because of this, Yō was always playing catch up and sometimes it felt hopeless. What was even the point? she’d ask herself.

The point was obvious. She wanted to be at Chika’s side. Chika was always interesting and always made her laugh and brightened her day. Chika was her best friend, sure, but she was so much more. And sometimes – through the haze of abandoned inspirations and activities – Yō would get a glimpse of what that ‘more’ meant. There was this intangible greatness about Chika, where if she stayed in one spot for more than a minute, she could accomplish amazing things, but so rarely did this happen. So rarely did she stop running.

Yet this plan to save the school was something different; no matter the outcome, it would be over in a year. Maybe because of that short timeline, Yō had a feeling Chika wouldn’t lose sight of the end. She would see it through. And Yō wanted nothing more than to be there to help.

It wasn’t altruistic to say that. Indeed, it was even a bit selfish.

She wanted Chika to look at her. She loved Chika’s befriend-everyone attitude. She wanted Chika to smile at her. She loved Chika’s ability to make her laugh. She wanted Chika to appreciate her. She wanted Chika.

She loved Chika.


	10. Yoshiko

Yoshiko made it to the classroom and hunkered down at her desk without talking to anyone. It would be as uneventful a day as possible. That was her goal. She put in her earbuds so nobody would try to talk to her, but she kept the music off. Though it had never happened before, she was terrified of someone stealing an earbud and listening to her preferred music and then mocking her for it.

The first day would be the worst, she kept telling herself. She didn’t know the timings, so it wasn’t yet possible to arrive thirty seconds before the bell to avoid all social contact. And she would need to learn the teachers as well as the subjects. Which teachers called on which students and why? Did she have to maintain eye-contact, interest, and confidence, to not be called upon, or was it the opposite? How could she best fade out of existence?

Other students started to arrive, so she buried her head in her arms and closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

And there, in the darkness, her home, she felt only anger.

Recently, she had taken up 1v1 matches in Endless, and already there were so many fallen enemies at her feet. Her anger was directed at the weaklings, at herself, and at the game at large. Who was she, to waltz in, destroy those who had reigned for so long, and not feel anything for doing so? The victories were hollow. If she could beat someone once, she would never lose to them again. A ticket punched once was valid forever, but it never validated her actions. This was her problem.

Fun things weren’t fun.

Yet the world of Endless Oratorio was dynamic and anything was possible. If she had a problem with it, she could fix it. She could find that joy she’d lost. But how was she supposed to go about it? What was the definition of fun? How was it achieved?

“There you are!” The voice was so loud, she almost lifted her head.

The problem was with Endless, wasn’t it? It wasn’t within herself. It was that Endless was underwhelming. But this was odd, because it had a massive team of developers and was praised as the most engaging media of all time. It had changed society.

“Yoshiko, don’t ignore us!”

More troubling than hearing her name was hearing ‘us’. Did she have to deal with _two_ classmates before the first class of the first day even started? That was twice as bad as the worst scenario she had envisioned. She lifted her head and half pulled out an earbud, indicating she was only partially committed to dealing with them.

A girl was grinning at her. “I saw you on the class list. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, zura?”

“Uh-huh,” Yoshiko said. The girl had a name, Yoshiko was pretty sure, but damned if she could remember it. There was another girl, hiding behind the first. She was smaller and had red hair, and Yoshiko was pretty sure she had a name too – less sure than of the first girl, but still. They were both old classmates of hers, but that didn’t quite justify them attempting to start a conversation with her. Their intentions were unknown.

“I saw you earlier this morning,” the girl was saying, “and called out to you, but you ran off so quickly.”

“I had things to do.”

They stared at her for a few seconds. The lie was obvious. But by pretending she hadn’t just told a stupid lie, maybe it would become less obvious. Fake confidence. That was the logic behind her outwardly unwavering indifference.

“Anyways,” Yoshiko said, “class is about to start.”

This line worked for studious students, and studious students were the only goody-two-shoes who would talk to her in the first place. It should have sent them away. Instead, the second girl pulled out her phone.

“There’s still fifteen minutes left,” she said.

Yoshiko ignored it and replaced her earbud.

Surprisingly, that didn’t work either.

“You can’t just do that when someone is talking to you, zura!”

A miracle, or remembered trauma: Hanamaru and Ruby.

“Look, Zuramaru,” she said, “I can do whatever I want.”

Hanamaru smiled. “You sure can. And you want to talk to us!”

Ruby nodded her head vigorously.

Yes, it was remembered trauma.

“Rather,” Yoshiko said, hoping to sound as neutral as possible, “I’d say I’m indifferent to the prospect of conversing with mortals.”

“Mortals,” Hanamaru giggled. “I thought I had beaten that fallen angel stuff out of you already.”

Hey, hey, hey, wasn’t that a little too yandere sounding? People might get the wrong idea, if they overhear this conversation.

“You play Endless Oratorio, don’t you?” Hanamaru asked suddenly.

Play? How much of it was really a game? Yoshiko wondered. For lots of people, it had become a required part of their career progression. And more to the point: she couldn’t imagine Hanamaru playing it. Unless a lot had changed for the girl over summer, she couldn’t operate a calculator without writing _NaN_ on her test.

“Sure,” Yoshiko said offhandedly. “I’ve fooled around with that disappointment.”

“Disappointment?” Ruby said.

Hanamaru was talking over her with excitement. “Did you know the school has an Endless club? They tried to recruit Ruby. Isn’t that so cool?”

“Oh,” Yoshiko said, “you’re good at the game, Ruby?”

“Not really...”

If someone could be charged for too much modesty, it was Ruby. This denial was followed by an awkward silence – Yoshiko’s specialty – and she savoured it, despite knowing it wouldn’t scare either of her acquaintances away.

“What class do you play?” Yoshiko finally said.

“Ninja.”

Somehow fitting. Yoshiko hummed and nodded. “Specialization?”

“Clone DPS.”

“Ah. Just like Sarah,” Yoshiko said.

Sarah was one of the few players Yoshiko couldn’t always hate. She wasn’t solved. Yoshiko had never beaten her the same way twice – some victories were more overwhelming than others, but Sarah always went into battle with something new. It just so happened that some of the new stuff was really stupid, so Yoshiko’s opinion of her constantly changed.

Ruby’s eyes lit up. “Sarah’s amazing, isn’t she?!”

“She’s Ruby’s role-model,” Hanamaru explained.

Yoshiko frowned. “I thought her older sister was.”

“Out of game, sure, but in-game Sarah is all Ruby can talk about, zura.”

With both Dia and Sarah being talked about in the same sentence, it looked like Ruby was having a crisis. Yoshiko wondered what would happen if someone asked her to choose between them.

“In any case, Ruby is really good.” Hanamaru petted the girl’s head alongside the praise. “You’re good at the game, too, aren’t you, Yoshiko? You should play with her, sometime. I think you two would have fun.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” Yoshiko said, wondering if she really had a choice in the matter.

And maybe her memory was failing her – she didn’t reserve much for other peoples’ actions and reactions – but Ruby didn’t look too happy at being pet. When they were younger, she’d lean into it like a puppy. Hanamaru, too busy with the praise, didn’t notice the lukewarm reaction.

Thankfully, Yoshiko was able to impress her indifference onto her company and they eventually, politely, excused themselves and went off and did whatever youth did nowadays.

And that left Yoshiko to think about the Endless club, which she knew for a fact did _not_ exist at Uranohoshi Girl’s Academy. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass Ruby, fallen-angel-may-care attitude or not, but something shady was definitely going on with that recruitment attempt. Maybe later she would do a web search for recent kidnappings in the area.

For the rest of the morning, through lectures that she had subconsciously deemed unworthy of attention, Yoshiko imagined what team competitive play would look like. She had played a lot with her online acquaintances, but they were always experimenting and fooling around. Though perhaps that was because of their choice of game-mode; nobody could play on their level, so they imposed limitations on themselves. Playing serious wasn’t fun if it guaranteed victory.

So Yoshiko zoned out in English and maths, and theorized strategies and analyzed build paths. It was easy to get lost in thought, when there was so much to think about. And then she made the mistake of comparing it to the one versus one matches she’d been playing. The word – dare she say it? – _boring_ , came to mind. Compared to what team battles could be, one versus one seemed so small.

But it wasn’t like one morning’s thought experiment would turn her away from climbing the ladder.

She still wanted to see the view from the top.

* * *

Yoshiko had been a little nervous – okay, a lot scared – of her high school debut. She was worried she wouldn’t fit in, wouldn’t have any close acquaintances, wouldn’t join any clubs. She was worried she was messed up in the head, because all of these things were technically within her control but still felt uncontrollable. She had confessed some of these concerns to her mother, who then shared a secret. It was a simple rule, but Yoshiko’s mother was a successful businesswoman so it was worth trying.

That evening, Yohane added Sarah as an online acquaintance. It was accepted easily, as suspected. Sarah had expressed a desire to hang out and practice together multiple times, when they’d first started recognizing each other in competitive. Of course, those requests had slowly stopped as Yohane kept beating her. She realized they weren’t equals, and fell more or less silent. And though she now accepted the request, she had her suspicions.

Yohane distracted by suggesting they duo the Absolute Giant, a particularly challenging boss.

The failed attempts didn’t bother Yohane. Death was something she was intimately familiar with. Case in point, she was level 86 because death reset the XP bar. Exponential growth in required XP began at 90, and the highest level player was 93. It would take hundreds of years of nonstop play to achieve level one hundred. But reaching level ninety, before the exponential growth came into play, was relatively easy. The vast majority of competitive players were at least ninety – there were unique quests and skills unlocked every ten levels, so it was important to get the bonuses from completing the level ninety quest-line.

Yet Yohane was still a bit aways from hitting that breakpoint, and wasn’t getting there very fast.

Sarah gradually grew comfortable with the concept of failure, after their fifth attempt to 2-man the late-game boss. Their theorycrafting went far into the night, and admittedly it was more interesting than Yohane had expected. But Sarah’s suspicions never seemed to go away, so by the end of the night – a bit into the start of the morning – Yohane validated it with a request. Surprisingly, Sarah agreed and they went their own ways.

It was convoluted, but it was what her mother had taught her. A simple rule: do one nice thing for everyone you meet. No matter how small – how insignificant it is – when meeting someone new, have the goal of making them smile or improving their life. Even if it would be forgotten by the both of you within the hour, it showed the right mindset.

“What mindset is that?” Yoshiko had asked her mother.

“That of doing something good.” Her mother grabbed another beer from the fridge and cracked it open. After a generous gulp and exaggerated sound of approval, she continued, “because it always gets warped in the end, you know? Good intentions never last, but you can sleep better at night knowing you tried. Even as the office burns around you, maybe _caused_ by you, at least you know you started right, and it was the inevitable fall where everything got screwed up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No arsonists in this story. That’s not a promise, it’s an aspiration.


	11. Siren

Yoshiko was careful.

As shitty as it was to acknowledge, Yohane wasn’t accepted in the real world. That was her video game persona. The separation hadn’t always been a distinct thing to her, but after repetitive drilling by Hanamaru when they were younger, she came to terms with the fact that it was unhealthy. Endless Oratorio and Earth were two different things, and weren’t meant to mix. But sometimes they did, when exposed to certain stimuli. Music, for one.

Yoshiko could hear that sweet sound, faintly echoing down the hallway. The login page theme from winter of last year. That was when she had been most excited to boot up her computer after a day of boring lectures at school. When the game still had that elusive ‘fun’ factor.

She tilted her head like it would help her hear better or worse. The piano got no louder nor quieter. After a moment’s contemplation – that was a lie, she stopped thinking when the two worlds collided – she set off. At every intersection, she slowed so she wouldn’t take a wrong turn. A few students, on their way to their clubs or going home, gave her weird looks but she didn’t care because the music was getting louder and that meant she was getting closer.

Yoshiko loved the piano. It could convey almost any emotion – it was capable of such high highs and low lows – and the Endless soundtrack had some great piano songs that could absorb her into the game. And this one was both nostalgic for a season passed, and something new – it varied slightly from the original, like a cover someone might post online. Yoshiko knew nothing about music theory or playing musical instruments, but that didn’t take away from the joy of listening.

On the second floor of the secondary building, where nobody wandered, the music sounded clearer.

She burst into an unfamiliar room.

An iron hand gripped her arm.

“Caught one!”

Instinctively, she tried to pull away. The music stopped. It had been a trap. Such a beautiful sound, meant to lure in the naive. Her youth – her beauty – her impurity – Yoshiko was about to lose it all. Still, desperately, her eyes sought the melody’s creator. In the back of the room, there she was, as beautiful as the song she’d been playing. Well, at least, her long, flowing red hair was. Yoshiko couldn’t see her face, because she was facing away. But still, it had to be better than the mouth-breathing monstrosity that had caught her.

“Let go,” Yoshiko demanded, and, before remembering she was nobody in the real world: “Do you know who I am?”

“A first-year!” the girl holding her in place squealed in delight. She had shoulder-length orange hair and the kind of looks that said she was deaf to things she didn’t like.

The red-head pushed the piano bench back and stood up. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“What did I tell you?”

“I can’t believe I’m complicit.”

“It’s not a crime.”

“It will be, very soon, if you don’t let her go.”

“Hold on,” the short-haired girl said, turning to Yoshiko. “You need to promise not to go to the pres if I tell you my name – she already has it out for me.”

“Uh,” Yoshiko said. “For what?”

“Poaching first years.”

“No kidding.”

“Glad you understand. So, my name is Chika,” the girl said, her grip loosening enough to slide it down into a handshake. It was smooth, western, and weird all in one. “What’s yours?”

“Huh?”

“Your name?”

That was a trick question: Yoshiko’s first instinct when she didn’t want real-life weirdos knowing her name was to lie and say Yohane. But if these two played Endless, it was very likely they knew of Yohane’s great conquests, and things would take a turn for the worse if she used her in-game name now. It was check and mate before she’d even been able to react.

“... Yoshiko.”

Chika released the handshake, giving Yoshiko the first opportunity to run directly to the student council president. But she remained rooted in place, because the other girl had finally turned around.

“Riko Sakurauchi,” the red-haired girl said, bowing slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yoshiko.”

Yoshiko had never expected to meet a siren in real life, let alone in this small, rustic school. The afternoon sun had cast its rays a hundred and fifty million kilometers with one purpose in mind: seeking out Riko, the sole soul worthy of light in this dark world. Her hair shone like a crimson fire more potent than Yohane’s greatest spells. Her eyes, gold greater than any dragon’s hoard. Her-

Okay, slight dramatization, but that was Yoshiko’s specialty. In short, she was infatuated. And it wasn’t like she was a hundred percent committed to 2D superiority, it’s just that she’d never been proven wrong, until now. This was problematic, because in 2D crushing on girls was normal – as everyone assured her online – but in real-life it didn’t make sense because she herself was a girl. That added dimension meant a whole lot of trouble.

“For the record,” Riko said, “I don’t condone Chika’s actions. I didn’t even know what she was planning until she had me in this room.”

Yoshiko didn’t know where to look – Riko’s hair, Riko’s eyes, Riko’s _legs_ – yeah, wow, that was some absolute territory – and maybe she ought to refrain from being such a creep, but she wanted to soak in as much as she could before Chika pulled out a gun or a knife or whatever it was dangerous schoolgirls did and Yoshiko had to run. So, whatever. Couldn’t her wide-eyes be chalked up to being trapped in a room with two seniors with unknown intentions?

Finally, Chika brandished her weapon of choice. A piece of paper.

“Just sign here and you can go,” she said.

“A cult?” Yoshiko said.

“Do I really look that much like a cultist?” Chika whined.

“It’s the signature bit. And how you act. So, I say again, a cult?”

“Close,” Chika said, waving the paper in front of her. “A club.”

“Doesn’t look like a club.”

“Well, this here is paper.”

“Then I think not.”

“It cuts.”

“Knives and guns are more effective.”

“I have lollipops and tangerines.”

“Ever heard of mainstream appeal?”

“That’s how you get overshadowed!”

“There’s better ways to stand out.”

“Legally?”

“No, not for you,” Yoshiko conceded, despite not really knowing what they were talking about for a while now.

Chika’s true weapon of choice was words, wasn’t it? She was leading the entire interaction since Yoshiko had first stepped into the room.

Sighing, Yoshiko asked, “What kind of club?”

“Endless Oratorio. We’re making a team and going pro!”

Oh. Yoshiko was connecting the dots. This had to be the girl who tried to kidnap Ruby.

“You won’t regret it – it’s a chance for greatness, to rise above everything, to be special!”

“Uh huh.”

“You can shine as brightly as the goldiest golden gold!”

“You seem desperate for members,” Yoshiko said.

“Well, ‘desperate’ isn’t the word I’d use,” Chika ventured. “Maybe, like...”

She floundered for a word, even looking to Riko for help.

“Desperate,” Riko said, and Chika stumbled back, clutching an invisible stab wound.

“ _Et tu, brute?_ ” Yoshiko muttered under her breath, almost feeling bad for the girl.

When Chika recovered, it was with a paper once again thrust into Yoshiko’s face.

Humans deserved sympathy. Yoshiko made sure to allocate, by default, a certain amount to every human. But optimists had a way of losing it so quickly.

“Ah, how problematic,” she said. “I suddenly feel like writing my name on a piece of paper, yet I have no pen to do so.”

Chika scrambled. In the following five seconds she ran three laps around the room and the best she could do was offer Yoshiko a piece of chalk like it was the holy grail.

“This won’t do.” Yoshiko looked at it in disgust before snapping it in half between her fingers. “I suppose I could always use my blood.”

Credit to Chika, she didn’t recoil at the suggestion. Riko was watching, and she seemed to be half-amused, half-disturbed. But, hey, that was the sort of reaction Yohane liked. Doubly so on Riko.

“It cuts,” Chika said, offering the edge of the paper.

“Knives are more effective.”

“I have lollipops-”

“Chika,” Riko warned.

Yoshiko wondered if this was a common occurrence or just infinite wisdom from the siren.

But this was also the boiling point for Chika. Unable to execute a verbal assault, she launched forward, grappling onto Yoshiko’s arm once again.

“Please,” Chika pleaded. “We need members to win Oratorio Live and save the school!”

If it had been Riko with that expression, clutching so needfully to her arm, then Yoshiko wouldn’t have hesitated to sign the sheet, whether in ink, blood, or chalk. But Chika was just an annoyance. And maybe Yoshiko was a little frustrated that she was being recruited because she fell for bait, instead of for her actual world-class skill.

“How’s this?” Yoshiko said. “You let me leave unharmed now, and tomorrow I bring you two recruits.”

“Eh?” Chika said – she was capable of at least that much math. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Shake on it,” Chika said, probably mostly because she already had Yoshiko’s arm.

And that wasn’t a problem because Yoshiko wasn’t planning on bailing without holding up her end of the deal. Her new rule meant she owed a favour to Chika, not to mention she still hadn’t anything planned for Hanamaru. As for Riko – well, Riko didn’t count. It didn’t feel like they’d actually met, yet. And, in all honesty, Yoshiko didn’t want to meet her. She was scary.

In any case, Yoshiko and Chika shook hands for the second time that day.

“Why do I feel like I made a deal with the devil?” Chika said afterwards.

“Because you just did.”


	12. Stream #144

“Dark evening, my little demons,” Yohane greeted. “As you all know, I’ve had the misfortune of spending much time on this mortal coil. Immortality, however, has me in no great rush to move on, and as such, I’ve been able to see and hear lots, through the years. Today, I thought I’d talk to you about the three eras of gaming. ‘But Fallen Angel Yohane,’ you say, ‘video games have only been around for four decades. How can there be three eras already?’”

The trick was to keep an eye on chat, and adapt as necessary. The need to read also helped her slow down her speeches so she didn’t sound nervous – not that she needed that, nowadays.

“Don’t be misguided by your earth, which moves slowly and has only a handful of eras over four billion years. Or your technological eras, only over millions of years instead of billions. Your entertainment is different. What’s vogue one day is undistinguished the next. It happens so quick that most don’t recognize it beyond their subconscious, but, I, as an objective existence, shall shed light on the matter for you all.

“The first era of gaming was of surprise and challenge. The exact year it started is irrelevant to me – these non-null auto-incrementing unique integers are not my primary keys. This era is defined by mystery. The wonder of exploring temples, mansions, castles, and paintings and finding the secrets therein. You have yourself to rely on as you hone your skills and figure out the rules of the world – and maybe, if you’re lucky, at lunch and between classes at school you’ll have some acquaintances to talk with about the secrets and strategies. It’s all about discovery. And if you think I sound nostalgic talking about the first era of gaming, you should hear me go on about seeing the Bard of Avon’s _Othello_. It was – ah, I mustn’t divagate. Not everyone has as much time as I do.”

Though Yohane had only a rough draft of what she wanted to talk about, it was coming out pretty well. But the topic was depressing, in her opinion. Soon, everything after would be a slow, sad denouement. Recognizing this, she let the previously restrained passion take over.

“The graphics weren’t important. Nobody cared that Lara’s tits were as pointy as a thumbtack – hell, some even liked it and I’m not here to judge. Innovation was everywhere in this era. Games were accomplishing mind-boggling effects, but it was impossible to explain to people who didn’t play them. Was the average person impressed, in the mid-nineteen hundreds, when tic tac toe was playable on a screen? Hell naw. They had pen and paper; who cared about additron tubes?

“This era starts with the tic tac toes and pongs, but evolves into so much more. They’re the defaults: the minesweepers and the excitement of scoring an extra ball in the demo-not-demo of Space Cadet pinball. It’s the birth of countless IPs that still claim headlines today. It’s nostalgia, sure, I won’t deny it, but it’s where the rules were created. Worlds were terraformed out of ones and zeroes, and the possibilities were limitless. Early in this era is its epitome, SkiFree. It’s simple, and a rare non-innovative game. It’s fun, and fun, and fun, and then suddenly it’s scary and it’s impossible. That’s it. The Abominable Snow Monster waddles its way over and catches you. Om-nom-nom you’re eaten and it’s game over.”

An interaction in chat caught her off guard. One viewer, SpellLucki, typed a single letter into chat. ‘ _F’_. That was, indeed, the reason she’d brought up SkiFree. But then the meme took over, and Fs flew through chat like bats out of hell. They were piling on – they didn’t know better – they were of a new generation.

Yohane smiled to cover up her mixed emotions.

She had intended to drive the point home – explain why the game really was the epitome of the era – but decided against it. Cut that bit out and move on. After all, this was the complete opposite of preaching to the choir.

“Thank you for your insight, SpellLucki,” she said.

“I won’t say the year this all ended – instead, I’ll point to the first game of the second era. Shortly before smartphones were targeted at the common user, a game you’re all familiar with was released. This MMORPG grew rapidly in popularity and in a few years was dominating the charts. People made close allies, first loves, and even went so far as to get married in-game. But what makes it so unique, compared to previous games? Two things: the prevalence of the internet and datamining.

“In truth, maybe datamining was all I wanted to whine about today, and everything else was just the dressing. But most people will highlight something else in these games. There’s something more noticeable when you look at today’s tits and those of Tomb Raider’s original release. Visual fidelity. Game studios and hardware manufacturers pursued it alike. Complex polygons and innumerable pixels helped sell games to a wider audience. This era was the introduction of games to mainstream culture.

“Now, back to this newfangled thing called the internet. There was no calling the helpline when stuck anymore – forums and FAQs would walk you through every step of the way, holding your hand like it wasn’t completely inappropriate. The internet was here, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Games ballooned in file size and hackers found a preference to sift through the code instead of swim through the world. It wasn’t cheating – and no, today is not the day to talk about cheating – that’d take much too long – but it was greatly frowned upon and near impossible to prevent. I’ll confess, internet flash games stood no chance against my skills when I went through that childish hacking phase. Anyways... with the advent of the internet, it was easier for anyone to share their discoveries and everyone to access them. Secrets were no more. Mysteries had their curtains pulled back. Players knew the stats of the secret boss before they’d ever even seen it. Games became these naked, mindless, task-reward-cycle machines that gave us our daily dopamine dose that we so dearly desired.”

She fell silent. Went too hard on the alliteration, didn’t she? Trying too hard was always a bad look. Oh well, something to take into consideration for next time.

A lot of people in chat were probably feeling pretty shitty about themselves, as gamers were wont to do when faced so bluntly with reality. Or maybe she was projecting. It was time to wrap this segment up.

“And the third era?” she asked. “Well, that’s what we’re seeing now, aren’t we? Is Endless Oratorio the first of a new era, without cheating and datamining? Where certainty isn’t, and a tinfoil sheet is thrown over mystery once again shrouding it? Where calling video games mainstream is as banal as saying smartphones are in everyone’s hand? Where nothing is solved but the flawed people, and the potential again feels limitless? Well, that’s food for thought – which is the only food someone like me needs.

“And on a lighter topic: for those so inclined, homework for you. Despite my long stay on Earth, I haven’t read too deeply into your fiction. Tell me, does your history ever recount a meeting between a fallen angel and siren? If so... I’d like to hear about it. And that’s it for this evening of evil.”

A click, and the stream ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this’ll be relevant-ish for the story.


	13. Tricked

Yoshiko wasn’t one to feel guilty. In fact, this would be good for Hanamaru. It was time to broaden her horizons.

After class, she caught Hanamaru before the girl could finish packing her things.

_Bait_ : “Hey,” Yoshiko said, “wanna see a library?”

“I see one every day,” Hanamaru said, frowning.

“But this one is big. It’s like, bookshelves stacked six stories high. As large as a cathedral, every wall crammed with books. More than you could read in your lifetime. Our school has nothing on it.”

“Does such a thing even exist, zura?”

_Hook_ : “Oh, it absolutely does. And you can visit it free of charge.”

Hanamaru looked around discreetly, like they were talking about a porn magazine found in the forest behind the school.

“Where is it?” she whispered.

“You should get Ruby, too. I bet she’d want to see it.”

“Are... are you sure?” Hanamaru said, surprisingly unwilling to share the magazine.

“Positive,” Yoshiko said.

“Okay, zura.”

_Sink her_ : “Excellent. Let’s go.”

* * *

Hanamaru was naive. This was surprising, because she was more well-read than everyone else in their year. But it was Ruby who was suspicious from the first moment. She kept asking questions and vocalizing doubts about the super-library. It was annoying and Yoshiko was completely unprepared for it. Ruby was supposed to be a passive tag-along.

“I just thought, the way you brushed us off yesterday,” Ruby was saying, “and now all of a sudden-”

“Humans are fickle creatures.”

“You admit you’re human?” Ruby said, cutting straight to the point.

“Have you ever been to the Frozen Pond Caves?” Yoshiko said, adopting a new strategy.

“Huh? Why?”

“I heard Sarah’s been practicing around there lately.”

“Wha-really? Where did you hear this? When was she last seen there? Why is she practicing there?”

And it was then that Yoshiko learned a little more about the human condition. People were blind to what they loved the most: from libraries to role models to cults.

“She was there yesterday. In the evenings – I bet you could meet her if you went there tonight.”

They stopped in front of the door and Yoshiko realized she would look like a complete idiot if Chika wasn’t there. Well, certainly someone so desperate wouldn’t be a no-show.

“Here we go,” Yoshiko said. “Ladies first.”

“You’re not?” Ruby said.

“Can you quit questioning me like that?”

“Fine,” Ruby sighed. “Let’s see this library of yours.”

She opened the door and was vacuumed in.

“Huh?” Hanamaru managed, before she too disappeared.

Sacrifices made, Yoshiko turned to leave. This was the first time she’d experimented with human sacrifices and she felt a little dirty. She would need to go home and reflect on it. Take a bath, too.

Something grabbed her.

A voice said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Unharmed...” she grunted, trying to resist the pull. “That-was-the-deal.”

“Don’t worry. The worst you’ll get is a paper cut. And I have band-aids for that.”

And like that, the vacuum sucked her into the room..

* * *

Yeah, it was kinda awkward. She’d just sacrificed her acquaintances, and now here she was. This was as close as she’d ever gotten to being lynched by a crowd. In the future, she knew she’d get much closer, so it could be called something like practice, but ultimately, she recognized it wasn’t a situation she wanted to be in. And, unfortunately, Riko wasn’t in the room. Because of that, light saw no reason to enter, either. They were in the dark and nobody thought to open the curtains or turn on the lights.

“Where’s the library?” Hanamaru asked, like that would do something for the tension.

“Library?” Chika said. “Books? Paper? Here.”

She held out the club sheet. Also, learning from last time, a pen. Hanamaru, unsure and probably a little bit caught up in Chika’s momentum, signed it. Score one. Next...

“Now, you promised us two recruits, Yoshiko,” Chika said. “Are you the second?”

“Eh?” Yoshiko said. Suddenly afraid Ruby had shrunk out of existence, she spun around.

But Ruby was still there. In fact, she was sitting on the center table, swinging her legs and looking quite comfortable for having been dragged into a dark classroom by vacuum!senpai. Yoshiko breathed a sigh of relief.

“What do you mean?” she said, motioning to Ruby. “She’s right there.”

About five seconds passed.

Crap. Something was wrong. “What do you mean?” Yoshiko tried again. “She’s – she’s right there.”

Hanamaru looked between them all and then smiled at Yoshiko. It was mostly the dark room and yandere-like vibes Hanamaru had been giving off lately, but Yoshiko was genuinely afraid.

“Uh, Ruby,” Yoshiko said, “look, maybe you and Chika didn’t get off on the right foot – she’s like that, you know – like a spider – so many feet she’s hard to deal with – and this is probably the center of her web now that I think about it – but Hanamaru was talking about how good you are at Endless and you could get even better if you joined a team.”

“I know,” Ruby said.

Those two words, and Yoshiko understood. She was in a room with three spiders. Who was really the naive one, here? Ruby had already went to Chika – unthinkable! – and joined the club. And since she’d already joined, Yoshiko had unwittingly brought only one valid sacrifice – or two, if she counted herself. Crap, crap, crap. Weren’t humans supposed to be solved? What was this nonsense? The human condition was bullshit.

“I see,” Yoshiko said, channeling Yohane’s confidence. “This is quite the trap, for such young ones to have created on their own.”

In truth, she was stalling for time.

“Why thank you!” Chika said, and Yoshiko’s head wanted to bash itself repeatedly into a wall.

“It was teamwork,” Ruby said.

“Zura!”

“But you humans have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“Yohane,” Hanamaru suggested.

Yoshiko cleared her throat. “No, this isn’t elementary school.”

“It’s your name in Endless Oratorio.”

“You can’t play,” Yoshiko pleaded against reality.

“I don’t know if it counts as playing, but with Ruby’s help I created an account to access the Cathedral library. It’s everything you promised it would be, and more.”

So she’d known from the start of Yoshiko’s lies. It was defeat at every turn. There was only one solution: do something so shameful they’d let her go out of pity. And as she was about to prostrate herself, the door opened and light shone through. A siren – an angel – Yoshiko didn’t know anymore beyond it being an enemy – walked in.

“Why’s it so dark in here?” Riko said, turning on the light.

It was a chance to bail – the split second of blindness as everyone adjusted to Riko’s shine – but the light stunned her as much as it did everyone else and the moment passed.

“There, much better,” Riko said. “Now, how’s the recruitment going?”

“You’re here for the best part,” Chika said, all cheery and unspiderlike.

Yoshiko was half crouched – certainly not like someone who was going to lay on the dirty floor – and feeling like an idiot.

“Ah, are you joining, Yoshiko?” Riko asked.

Yoshiko’s knees went weak and she did fall to the ground.

Maybe, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe school and Endless could mix, just a little bit. Sure, they’d use her popularity and skills to achieve undeserved success, but if Riko was there, it could be bearable... no! She couldn’t give in. When she’d read the Wikipedia page about the human condition, she’d also read the one about sirens. They were dangerous. It would not end well. And speaking of bad ends, Yoshiko herself brought misfortune wherever she went. They wouldn’t want her, if they knew.

“I would bring you all bad luck,” Yoshiko said. “Just ask my little demons – they all know.”

“Little demons?” Riko said.

“My viewers.”

“Viewers?” Riko said. “As in, a livestream?”

“Nonsense,” Yoshiko said, quickly backtracking. If anyone in this room tuned into her stream it would be a world of trouble. “I meant, ask the world. Yohane is a name that will go down in infamy. Your club will be destined for ruin, if I join. Misfortune follows me like a stray dog.”

Riko made a disgusted face, which was good because if she kept asking Yoshiko would be unable to refuse.

“That’s right,” Yoshiko said. “I’m nothing compared to black cats and broken mirrors.”

“Cats are cute,” Riko offered.

Yoshiko wished she were a cat. Never mind the sounds Riko could make with a piano – even hearing her say ‘cute’ was a treat to the ears. Gah! No! Don’t fall for the siren. Riko was an enemy.

“We aren’t afraid of bad luck,” Chika said. “There’s much worse out there than silly things like that.”

Riko nodded emphatically.

“Like what?” Yoshiko said.

“Uhm,” Chika said. “Chickens, probably.”

“What?” Riko asked on her behalf.

“I – I mean, bad karma. And things like that.”

Yoshiko looked to Ruby and Hanamaru, who both nodded their heads in agreement.

So they weren’t afraid of the calamity she would bring them. If she weren’t a fallen angel, it would have been a complicated question of ethics. With matters so serious, did they have a right to decide when they couldn’t even comprehend the full extent of the truth? With imaginations incapable of envisioning the worst – the hellfire and regret lurking in their future? Weren’t they too immature to make such an important choice? Thankfully, Yoshiko embraced evil and didn’t feel any qualms about ignoring these questions.

Probably for the first time in her life, Chika was silent. Everyone was silent. It should have been her moment: she had complete control over the room. That was Yohane’s ideal – it was what she strove for in battle and livestreams – but Yoshiko felt inept now.

She wanted to experience team competitive. Not necessarily more than once, or with these people, but ever since Hanamaru and Ruby had approached her on the first day of class, it had been lingering in her thoughts. Would it be ‘fun’? Yet it seemed so impossible; communication was hard in day to day life, but in battle, where a quarter of a second was a long time, it became something else entirely. Without telepathy, the best thing a team could do was think alike. And that meant finding like-minded people.

She looked around the room, at the vacuum, the librarian, the siren, and the deceiver, and knew this couldn’t be further from the truth. It was a haphazard team, at best.

“Look, your real problem isn’t members,” Yoshiko mostly lied. “It’s tourny points. If you want to get an invite to the Oratorio Live qualifiers, you need tourny points. Teams competing from last year start off with ten points, so you’re already behind. You need to rank in almost every tournament from now until Oratorio Live begins.”

“You’re well informed,” Hanamaru said.

“I know how tournaments work,” she said, since the cute cat was already out of the bag. “And I also know that if I were to join, my 1v1 rankings would contribute tourny points to the team. And my popularity would be enough promotion to get as many members as you wanted. You’d have a full roster and could pick and choose your players for Oratorio Live.”

“I don’t know about that last part,” Riko said.

“Don’t underestimate my popularity.”

“It’s not that,” Riko said. “It’s just, Chika insists...”

“We’re making a team only out of students from Uranohoshi,” Chika said. “After all, it’s to save the school.”

Ah, that would be a problem, then. Yohane probably didn’t have many fans at the school.

“Your loss,” Yoshiko said, with a shrug.

And then Riko delivered the finisher: “It won’t be a loss, if you join.”

The simple fact that Riko was expending so much effort – a couple words was a lot, from someone so pretty and good with the piano and popular and stylish and a lot more – was enough to set her heart racing. If she joined, they’d be able to see each other every day and talk and possibly maybe potentially even become sorta somewhat kinda acquaintances. Already, Yoshiko was yearning for the warm afternoons spent in the club room alone with Riko, listening to her play piano. The window would be open, and a breeze would blow in cherry blossom petals and the sophisticated, serene beauty of Riko would be for Yoshiko only. Just the thought of it made her deeply content in a way no video game post-credits scene ever did.

And then she shook her head and dispelled the siren’s illusions. This was to refind her love of the game.

“I want to make this clear: it’s not something I want to devote myself to,” Yoshiko said. “I know how time-consuming practicing for competitive can be. That kind of constant teamwork stuff is not something that appeals to me. It makes me tired even thinking about it. That being said, if you accept the misfortune I will bring, then for a short period of time – until you secure enough points and players – I will join to assist you in achieving your goals.”

After her declaration and signature, she had to threaten Chika with the pointy tip of the pen to stop the squealing.

“Five members!” Chika fist-pumped. “Score!”

“Speaking of which,” Riko said, “where is your fifth member? From what I can tell, she’s been acting a little off, lately.”

Yoshiko counted the five of them and then said, “Huh?”


	14. Motivations and Marriage

Hanamaru was quite pleased by the end of the second day. She’d already been hired on as the assistant librarian. Because the school was so small, the library was a quiet, modest place. She had a rough understanding of the layout already, and three years to memorize the catalogue. Her goal was to finish it in one.

But this happiness was marred by Ruby’s troubled expression and incessant pacing in the otherwise empty library.

“You can sit down, zura.”

“Sorry.”

“This seat is comfy,” Hanamaru said, referencing the cushioned librarian’s chair she had plopped down on. “Did you want it?”

Ruby shook her head, and sat down at one of the few study tables. Was it a mistake to make her sit? Considering that it was the second day of school, she shouldn’t have had problems already, but something was going on.

“What are you thinking about?” Hanamaru said.

“That girl...” Ruby said. “I never even got her name.”

Indeed, that girl had been intriguing. She’d appeared without warning and tried to recruit Ruby and Hanamaru into an Endless Oratorio club. Of course, Hanamaru dismissed it easily; she rarely left the cathedral library. She wasn’t even sure she knew how. Fighting was unthinkable. But maybe it was different for Ruby.

“Are you interested, zura?”

The very thought seemed to alarm Ruby. “I could never!”

“Why not? You’re good at the game. Competitive sounds challenging – it could be a fun club.”

“It’s... it’s not about that. It’s my sister.”

“Don’t worry about her, zura.”

“You don’t understand,” Ruby said, shaking her head vigorously. “My sister, she used to love competitive Endless. But that stopped two years ago, and now the very thought of it pains her. I can’t do that to her.”

* * *

Yoshiko was a complete ass. She had assumed that Riko was in the club, since, y’know, Riko was always around Chika, but that turned out to be false, and there was something seriously wrong with it all, because why was Riko so involved, then? It was terrible misdirection, and Yoshiko couldn’t stop thinking about it, even into the following day.

In any case, as soon as she had signed the cult sheet, Chika had hit her with their first cult activity: that weekend, they would be participating in a tournament. It was a local one, but officially recognized, and so winning would earn tournament points for entry into Oratorio Live. Now it was time for a Friday afternoon emergency meeting. Those were the best kinds, weren’t they? When everyone else was going home to play video games in a dark room or to a family restaurant and talking about their weekend shopping plans, the unofficial Endless club was just getting serious.

Yet Yoshiko was stuck outside the cult room. There was a stranger inside, and she really didn’t want to introduce herself. If this girl was anything like Chika, then it was safer not to enter.

During this hesitation, Hanamaru arrived.

She peeked inside and maybe came to the same conclusion because she did not enter.

“How are you doing, Yoshiko?” she said.

“I can’t believe Riko isn’t in the club,” Yoshiko said. She needed someone to complain to. “These second years are so deceitful. No – scratch that – you and Ruby are just as bad!”

“It’s for your own good, zura.”

“Yeah?” Yoshiko challenged. She was pretty sure Hanamaru would say something about mandatory socializing, so she needed to turn the tables. “And what about you? If it was all a trick to get me to join, why did you sign on, Zuramaru?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“I didn’t take you for the competitive type.”

“Maybe not,” Hanamaru conceded.

“Then?”

“I promised Ruby I would join if she did.”

“That’s it?” Yoshiko said.

“Chika said it was okay that I’m not experienced. Ruby needed the push, and I thought it would be fun if I could play with her.”

“Competitive isn’t fun. I recommend you lower your expectations. It’s hard work.”

“There’s always been this gap between us,” Hanamaru continued. “I think it’s because of Endless. I’ll log on and read in the library, but she’s always out adventuring and doing cool things. And I – I just wonder, if eventually she’ll lose interest in me. Like, she was always inviting me out when I first joined, but that kinda stuff was confusing and scary so I refused. And now she doesn’t bother asking me, anymore. She just leaves me in the library and goes to do her own thing. I can’t be there for her and protect her if I don’t change myself.”

“I see,” Yoshiko said. It was more complex than she’d thought – the fear of losing f-words. Thankfully Yoshiko didn’t have any. “For what it’s worth, you two look like best acquaintances in real life – and that’s the only life that matters.”

Hanamaru blinked. “I’m surprised you would say that.”

“The Fallen Angel has unlimited insight into this world and that one, and she knows the truth.”

“That’s a no-no,” Hanamaru said. “You’re a schoolgirl, zura.”

Yoshiko grinned. “But it’s only with you I can do it. Cut me some slack, would you?”

Ruby – the real mastermind behind the deception and probably everything else wrong in the world too – arrived.

“Hanamaru,” she said, bubbling over with energy, peeking into the room. “Who is that?”

“We don’t know,” Yoshiko interrupted. “And can you quit smiling? It’s stressing.”

“But I met Sarah yesterday!”

“Yeah?” Yoshiko said. “Did you learn it’s never a good idea to meet your role model in person?”

“Don’t be so cynical, zura.”

“She was amazing! We got to fight together!”

“Good for you,” Yoshiko said.

“And then she added me as a friend.”

“Huh?” The f-word? That wasn’t part of the deal. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? She’s a stranger.”

“Did you know she has a younger sister my age?”

“I did not know that,” Yoshiko said, regretting things. It was becoming a common theme to her high school debut.

“And her favourite colour is blue and she likes lasagna and long walks in the Frozen Pond Caves.”

“Lovely. When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t be silly,” Hanamaru said. “They’re strangers, like you said.”

But Ruby was too busy blushing. “W-w-w-wedding?” she said. “I could never!”

Yoshiko wondered if it would be too much like marrying her sister.

“That’s right,” Chika said, charging in like she was saving the day and reading Yoshiko’s mind. “Ruby has Dia! She can’t get married to anyone else!”

“ _Else?_ ” Hanamaru said.

“Their pure love must be protected!”

“Eh?” Ruby said.

“Now why are we all huddled out here like a football team that lost its field and feet? We’re supposed to be plotting the fall of all our enemy’s empire!”

She vacuumed them into the cult room and, only after some prompting, introduced Yō. Riko arrived a short while later. As Chika put it, she was the guest of honour.

Riko’s presence was no longer a problem. Sure, it made Yoshiko nervous, but that was a normal thing that popular girls did without realizing it. Ultimately, the honeymoon phase was over. Having slept on it, Yoshiko was eighty-five percent sure Riko wasn’t a siren or an angel, so there was no reason to completely melt down in her presence. In fact, Yoshiko estimated Riko to be as equally annoying as the vacuum.

With the whole five-plus-one team present, the meeting began.


	15. Sounds

“Okay,” Chika said to the group. “Everyone is here. Egg-cellent. We have a tournament thingy this weekend.” She paused to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s Saturday. So Yō was thinking we should do a strategy thingy now. Unfortunately, we don’t have snack thingies because it was such a short notice, but next time I’ll make sure to bring some.”

“Tangerines and lollipops?” Riko said.

“If you insist.”

“I wasn’t requesting-”

“No need to be so bashful.”

“I give,” Riko said, throwing her arms up.

“Let’s not talk about what’s not here,” Yō said. “We should each tell the team a little about our class specializations, experience, and personal strengths.”

“Oh, oh! I’ll start!” Chika said. When nobody objected, she continued, “My name is Chika Takami. I’m sixteen years old and I’m a student at Uranohoshi Girl’s Academy, in Uchiura, a small seaside town in the Shizuoka prefecture-”

“Yes, I think we all know that by now,” Yō said. “Can you get to the point?”

“I like tangerines and table tennis. I enjoy going to karaoke in my spare time. My strengths are my amazing singing voice, unyielding optimism, and brilliant smile.” She flashed a smile and waved to everyone like a celebrity. “I hope to get along with everyone.”

Yoshiko silently made a note never to go to a mixer with her.

Looking down at her hands in defeat, Yō said, “Your class?”

“I’m not really fond of any of them, but if I had to pick, I suppose my favourite would be social studies.”

“ _Chika._ ”

“Gosh. Can’t we take advantage, while we can, of not having a super serious club member? If ya’ll must know, I’m a swordswoman. I specialize in combo chaining in sea, land, and air. My weapon, Panini-”

“And, time’s up,” Yō said. “You’ve been playing for four years and your strengths are your reaction time and muscle memory. Next.”

“Aw, shucks,” Chika said, blushing.

Working clockwise around the table meant Hanamaru was next.

“I’m a... beastmaster?”

“Why the question?” Yō said.

“I haven’t summoned much more than Talon-”

“We’re gonna train her to train the best!” Chika interjected.

“Talon?” Yoshiko asked, because Chika probably didn’t even hear it.

“My falcon,” Hanamaru said.

“And you summoned him?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re a beastmaster.”

“Yes?”

Yoshiko hated to state the obvious, but... “Not a summoner.”

“Zura?” Hanamaru looked to Ruby for help.

“I don’t know, either,” Ruby said. “She’s like a beast-summoning-master?”

It sounded terribly inefficient to Yoshiko. Maybe Ruby stopped asking her out was because she was useless in battle.

“She wanted to fight with a book,” Ruby continued. “But she’d already chosen beast-master.”

“The animals were cute!” Hanamaru said.

So were girls, but that didn’t mean Yohane was going to be a slave master.

“Okay,” Yoshiko said, “sorry for the interruption.”

“My strengths are, I guess, that I’ve read a lot. I know I don’t have the experience, but I’m well-read on the game mechanics and all the skills and items and their interactions.”

Yoshiko bit back a comment about reading the meta.

“I’m a clone-specialized ninja,” Ruby said. “I haven’t been playing very long and I don’t really have any strengths...”

“Nonsense,” Hanamaru said. “Ruby is amazing! She can predict what other players are going to do before they even know it! And she’s super quick and has an innate sense of how to layer her abilities to optimize damage for her assassinations!”

Hanamaru reached out, maybe to ruffle Ruby’s head or something, but Ruby subtly leaned away. Before Hanamaru could consciously recognize the rejection, Yoshiko took the spotlight with a dramatic, evil laugh.

“Yohane is a mage that specializes in the darkest magics. Her strength is that she mercilessly kills everyone who wrongs her.”

She crossed her arms and waited for anyone to challenge it. Nobody did.

“Alright,” Yō said. “I’m a utility archer with a focus on high accuracy. Chika and I have been playing for nearly four years, now. I tend to do well on unique terrain – mountains and forests and stuff – so I guess you could call that my strength.”

They had gone around the full circle, but Chika was Chika.

“My name is Chika Takami,” she said, delaying the thinking part of the meeting. “I’m sixteen years old and a student at Uranohoshi Girl’s Academy, in Uchiura, a small seaside-”

“Since we don’t have much time to prepare,” Yō said, “I was thinking we’d follow the meta to a T. I suppose it would look like a front line of Chika and Ruby, followed by me and Hanamaru, with Yoshiko-”

“Yohane.”

“-in the back.”

With Chika’s voice suppressed and introductions done, the strategy meeting began in earnest.

Yoshiko was projected to bring in six tourny points from her solo competitive rankings, but that didn’t mean they could relax. It all depended on how fierce the competition was. Up to a hundred teams from across the world could be invited to the qualifiers.

* * *

As expected, five minutes into the meeting they’d lost focus. Yō wasn’t a born leader. She’d temporarily taken the reins for the introductions, but beyond that, the complexities of a structured meeting seemed to fall apart in her hands.

Since Yoshiko was sitting next to Yō, who seemed to be Chika’s foil, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to make at least one ally in the room. Obviously Ruby and Hanamaru had already proven they couldn’t be trusted.

Watching Chika and Riko talk, Yoshiko whispered, “They get along well.”

“Yeah.”

Yoshiko wondered what it would be like to be as bubbly and bright as Chika. “I thought Riko was a transfer student.”

“She is.”

But they looked like best f-words already. “How long have they known each other?”

“A week,” Yō answered.

So maybe Yō wasn’t into having a conversation. That was fine. Yoshiko wasn’t a Chika, after all. She couldn’t make things like that happen.

When she noticed Riko excuse herself to the bathroom, she had an idea. She waited two minutes, and then Yoshiko ceased to be.

* * *

“I don’t appreciate being taken for a fool,” Yohane said.

They were in the empty hallway, voices from the cult room barely audible.

Riko froze. “Huh?”

“I was under the impression that you were a member of the club.”

“I’m sorry for misguiding you,” Riko said. “I was just helping a friend.”

She tried to enter the room, but Yohane blocked the way.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yohane warned.

“Why not?”

“How do you think Chika feels?”

“What?”

“She wants you to join the team so badly, and you’re here all the time, reminding her that you don’t want to. She has to wonder, is it her fault? Is she not good enough for you? Do you not like her? It must be weighing on her like an anchor from the depths of hell-”

Riko gave her a weird look.

“My point is, you shouldn’t be hanging around the club room if you have no intentions of joining. It torments her innocent soul.”

“I – I didn’t realize,” Riko said.

“And now you do. So turn around, or capitulate to Chika’s desires.”

“I can’t join the team,” Riko whispered, eyes darting to the door and back. “It’s not that I don’t want to – it’s... it’s impossible for me.”

Yohane looked her up and down. “All you need are eyes and fingers.”

“That’s not all,” Riko said.

Yohane wondered if it was a trick question.

Riko brought a hand up to cover an ear.

“Huh?” Yohane said.

“I play the game with the sounds muted.”

“Youwhatnow?” Yohane said.

“The game sounds... I can’t handle them. It’s silly and stupid, I know, but it’s the only way I can play.”

It was stupid. Extremely so. But part of it was also badass. It was disrespecting a huge part of the game.

Yohane said, “Why?”

“I had a bad experience with... with the game’s music.”

“But you played the game’s OST on the piano just fine,” Yohane recalled from their first meeting.

Riko covered both her ears this time. “I had earphones in,” she whispered, eyes shut tight like it hurt.

“I – I’m sorry,” Yoshiko said. “Umm. Please, forget everything I said.” And don’t hate me.

Having used up all her available Yohane time for the day, she retreated into the clubroom.

Riko did not follow.

* * *

Two hours later, the school was closing and they had made no progress. There was no moderately concrete plan – just mediocre ideas floating in the ether and bouncing off each other, sometimes as unwieldy as nuclear fusion they’d collide and turn into something different and everyone would stare at these mutant ideas, wondering if they should reach out and grab them or let them float away forever.

It was around then, as they all filed out of the cult room, that Chika said the smartest thing she would ever say in her whole life, even if it was stolen from an old American war movie:

“If we don’t know what we’re doing, the enemy certainly can’t anticipate our future actions!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg is a placeholder name for Hanamaru’s falcon. If I don’t hear any suggestions, he’s going to be renamed BirdyMcBirdface and Kotori is going to show up and steal him. Update: Greg is now Talon.


	16. Karaoke

Player versus player in Endless Oratorio came in many forms. Most common was the PvP integrated directly into the world, where outside of the major cities and trade routes you could attack anyone you wanted. But this came with heavy consequences, so it didn’t happen unless it was far from civilization where the only people around were those willing to fight.

Aside from general PvP in the overworld, there were four special modes. Dying in these had no downsides: there was no loss of anything aside from pride, and, if applicable, predetermined wagers. Because it was disparate from the normal world, there were limitations on the kind of equipment and consumables that could be brought in.

The first mode was a generic team battle in a usually small, closed arena. It supported a familiar meta, with a front-to-back formation: tanks, melee DPS, ranged DPS, and then support and offensive mages. There were few obstacles on the map, and the last team standing was the winner. The smallest form this mode manifested in was 1v1, which was Yohane’s specialty. In only a couple months, she had gone from never playing 1v1 to topping the charts of the monthly Japanese ladder.

This arena game mode happened to be the one for their first tournament. Twelve teams were competing overall.

The battlefield: old, abandoned ruins.

Yohane liked that. Anything that hinted at ancient cultures and rituals, and their dark magics, was fascinating. The building blocks of these old structures also gave people a false sense of security, which was easy to exploit. Her magic would blast through the terrain indiscriminately.

Hanamaru was pacing back in forth in their starting area. She was probably nervous. In real life, she protected Ruby and gave the girl confidence, but here it looked like she was sapping Ruby’s confidence. Ruby was sitting on a wall nearby, her head following Hanamaru’s movements like a metronome. It might have been safe to say they were complete opposites here.

Chika was pacing back and forth, too, but she seemed like the kind of girl who spammed APM not for warming up but for the sake of spam itself. At least there were no confidence problems there. But it wasn’t very reassuring, seeing the generic store-bought sword in her sheath. They would need to talk about it later.

The timer began its countdown.

Yō, who was maybe the only one in any state to hold a conversation, stood at the exit, hands on her hips.

“What do you think?” Yohane said, joining her.

“We’ve done what we can. There’s nothing left but to go full steam ahead.”

The countdown ended and the barrier fell. They stepped out of their shabby corner of the ruins.

* * *

Yoshiko was good at romanticizing things. Whether it was old games or new experiences. Once she got an idea in her head, she trapped it there in a snare and let it fester. Last night, she’d slept only a few hours. The rest were spent imagining the million possibilities that the tournament held. The critical moments and perfectly executed combos, and the snap decisions and coordination and the potential to get even better.

And, as expected, it was nothing like her imagination.

It was chaotic.

It lacked teamwork.

It was ugly and frustrating and not fun at all.

They didn’t know what they were doing. And the enemies had no idea either. Consequently – hold on, correlation didn’t imply causation – they won their first tournament.

* * *

The decision to celebrate their first victory was made by Chika. Their venue, too, was decided by her. It’s karaoke. Of course it is. Yoshiko had been warned about this by Yō. Celebration meant karaoke and or tangerines. And apparently Chika wasn’t actually that bad of a singer, but Yō might have just been acclimatized so Yoshiko took that with a pinch of sugar.

Saturday afternoon, the four of them met at the karaoke place.

“Riko is being weird,” Chika said. “She’s refusing to celebrate.”

“She didn’t participate,” Yoshiko pointed out.

“But, she’s, like, our manager!”

“We’re four people. We don’t need a manager.”

Chika harrumphed.

“Give me the phone, then,” Yoshiko said. She didn’t need Chika pouting the entire time. “I’ll get her here.”

Chika was only too happy to oblige, and Yoshiko stepped outside of the room for some privacy. Riko answered on the second ring.

“Chika, I already said I’m busy.”

“Quit pouting,” Yoshiko said.

“Huh? Yoshiko?”

“Yes.” Yoshiko leaned against the wall. She’d decided to stick to the facts and tell the truth. Fallen angels tended to do the opposite, but sometimes Yoshiko was just, as Hanamaru said, a high school girl. “Look, I’m sorry about the other day. If it’s still bothering you, it shouldn’t. I was lying, obviously. Chika likes your company. She’s not smart enough – er, selfish enough – to think about anything more than that.”

She was met with silence, but knew Riko was listening.

Yoshiko continued, “Your problem is with Endless Oratorio, right? You can still sing and enjoy music.”

“I can,” Riko said slowly.

“So it doesn’t need to be about the game. Just come and have fun with your acquaintances.”

“Do – do you think it’s possible?” Riko said.

“To have fun?”

“To play competitively. For someone like me.”

“Um.”

“Could I play with her? I wouldn’t be a burden?”

“Everyone is a burden, in a team,” Yoshiko said. “But, um, I think, you, maybe, would be less of one?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now get over here. Chika’s being annoying about it.”

“I’m on my way.”

* * *

So, yeah, Riko joined. There might have been some heartfelt words and tears and introspection among the karaoke, but that was kinda the cost of being in a team, Yoshiko concluded.

More importantly, they were now six. A few more, and the roster would be large enough that nobody would mind if Yoshiko quit. She wanted to time it right. Once she’d satiated the urge for experiencing team battles and proven to herself that there was no fun to be had there either, she would leave the team and secure her spot at the top of the 1v1 rankings before retiring. It would be good money, and would set her up to pursue even greater things.

* * *

Chika threw open the door to the stupid council president’s office and hit the play button on her phone for the dramatic sound effect. _Dun dun duuuhhhhn._

Dia eyed her warily.

At that point, Chika wondered if she should have queued up boss music, because the silence that followed lacked the intensity she had imagined.

“Ahem,” she said.

“Ah, yes,” Dia said. “You’ve come to apologize, I suppose.”

Really, the boss music had been necessary. A critical mistake.

“No, I’ve come to gloat.”

She pulled the club sheet out of her pocket. The first few times, it had been a sacred paper and the thought of it getting bent or damaged was unthinkable. But time passed, and... well, really, that was all that needed to be said. Time passed. Now it was something of a combination of origami, a pressed flower, and a week-old fish.

Since Dia saw no need to rise from her comfy office chair, Chika put it on the desk. She also moved the recycling bin out of reach.

“You have some nerve, showing me a club form in such disgraceful condition.”

“It’s just paper.”

“It’s much more than that,” Dia said, though she didn’t even look at it and all the glorious signatures Chika had procured.

“Okay, whatever, let’s agree to disagree-”

“I don’t-”

“-and move on. It has five signatures – yes, count ‘em, five people – _students_ , in fact – would you believe it? – from this very school, who have a proven track record with a hundred percent win-rate at tournaments – yes, you heard that right – we won! – and now you’ve no choice but to do the stampy thingy and make it official!”

“I always have a choice.”

“You’re right! It’s your choice to fulfill your promise and prove your integrity to the entire school. It is your responsibility, as the-”

* * *

The five of them were waiting patiently in the cult room for Chika to bring the good news.

In a weird way, it was good enrollment had gone down, because otherwise there wouldn’t have been an empty room for Chika to commandeer. And it was a pretty good room, in Yoshiko’s opinion. Sure, it could be dark when the lights were off and curtains closed, and they needed to give it a good cleaning, but it was spacious. If they replaced the old curtains and washed the windows, it would be a little more welcoming.

The cabinets held all kinds of supplies that the school must have forgotten about, and the chalkboard was a palish green like it hadn’t ever been washed. All the desks were pushed into a corner and stacked on top of each other, and there was a round conference table in the center. But Yoshiko’s favourite part of it all was the piano. Why there was a piano in an abandoned room, nobody asked, but it seemed quite fitting for a secluded part of the school. It was like their own secret base. She could transform it into an atelier where she could practice alchemy!

And, hey, Yoshiko never said she hated dark rooms and cults.

Some were, in fact, pretty cool.

“We should pick a day to clean the place,” Yō said. She was over by the desks, and was holding up a finger covered in dust.

“It’s only natural that the lowest on the totem pole do the cleaning,” Yoshiko said. What she did hate was cleaning. “That would be the newest cult member.”

All eyes landed on Riko, sitting at the piano bench.

“Eh?” she said. “Well, I did want to clean the piano... I suppose it wouldn’t be out of my way to do the rest.”

“That’s too much for one person to do alone,” Hanamaru said. “She needs help, zura.”

“I agree,” Ruby said. “And as Yoshiko said – the lowest on the totem pole. I forget – who was the second most recent to join?”

Urgh. This was not what Yoshiko had in mind when she thought about her and Riko alone in the room after school.

The deceiver smiled innocently. Her meek exterior hid her internal machinations, but Yoshiko knew better.

Yoshiko mirrored the smile devilishly, because she was incapable of innocence. “It can’t be helped. I’m no stranger to mortals needing my assistance.”

After a quick discussion with Riko, they decided they would clean it after school in two days’ time. And then, the moment they were all waiting for: Chika – heard approaching from half the hall away – arrived.

“Are we official?” Yō said as soon as Chika entered the room.

Chika hummed thoughtfully.

“ _Chika_.”

“Ah, such nice weather today.” Chika opened a window and poked her head out. “Even the air smells like the beautiful summer days of our youth.”

“What did you do?”

“It was a slip of the tongue!”

Amazing, how guilty she could sound in one sentence. Eventually, Yō coaxed the story out of her. Chika had brought the good news to Dia, but accidentally called her the stupid council president. Suffice to say that no new clubs were created in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, we’re gonna have all nine next chapter. It’s a mess.


	17. Third Years

It was the day after Chika’s idiocy – no, hold on, that was a paradox – it was the day after Dia’s refusal – and Yoshiko was stuck outside the cult room. Again.

There was a weird girl inside. No, not Chika. It was a blonde girl. She had a hamburger and was taking it apart and eating it one ingredient at a time. Now, Yoshiko wasn’t particularly troubled by crimes against humanity – humans were overrated – but this irked her. And all the while, this girl was humming Mari-ly and it made her all the more sinister. So a confrontation like this was best left to the cult leader. But, of course, the cult leader never arrived on time.

Hanamaru and Ruby arrived first – the first-year classroom was closer to the cult room, so this wasn’t a surprise.

“You didn’t wait for us,” Hanamaru said.

“I thought you were watching the library today.”

Hanamaru shook her head. “That’s tomorrow, zura.”

“What’s the hold up?” Ruby said.

Yoshiko motioned towards the door. “Another creep in the cult room.”

“Cult room?” Hanamaru said, somehow making it sound like a threat.

“Club room. I said club room.”

“Good.”

Before either of them could peek inside, the second years all arrived. They moved like a popular clique, spearheaded by Chika. Actually, it wasn’t ‘like’ a popular clique – they were one. The school was small enough that simply by the virtue of coming from Tokyo, Riko was the most fashionable girl around. Yō was quite popular too, from her competitive high diving days, though she retired young. Still, if the rumours could be believed, she’d had a few girls confess to her. And Chika was the unpredictable f-word-with-everyone bubblish bubbly bubble girl.

Whatever they were talking about stopped once they got closer, and that left Yoshiko’s imagination to assume the worst.

“Just how many times can the football team lose its field?” Chika asked.

Both Yō and Riko looked confused, but Chika paid them no heed. Instead, she looked inside the cult room. And, in an excellent display of leadership, did nothing.

“Uh, Chika,” Yō said. “Are you going in?”

“Don’t wanna.”

Apparently she too could sense the danger. That blonde girl had an aura about her.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Ruby who peered inside and then opened the door without hesitation.

“Mari!” she said, rushing forward.

The girl – Mari – stood up, and, seeing Ruby’s approach, quickly pocketed the leaf of lettuce she was working on and hugged the girl.

“Long time no see, Ruby,” she said, messing Ruby’s hair.

Chika, suddenly brave, was the second inside the cult room. The rest of them followed hesitantly.

Ruby introduced the blonde girl as Mari Ohara, a family f-word.

“Ohara?” Yō said. “As in, _the_ Oharas?”

“Guilty as charged,” Mari said, flashing a peace sign.

“Why are you here?” Ruby said.

“Your sister has a stick up her ass.”

“I know, right?” Chika said, making an f-word in record time.

It was either good timing or great timing because at that moment Dia stepped into the room.

“Better than the two up yours,” Dia growled.

“Ah, Dia!” Mari said, holding her arms out for a hug.

But Dia wasn’t her younger sister. “The audacity you have to show up after two years, without a word of warning, like you own the place.”

“Well, actually-”

“No!” Dia snapped. “I don’t care how much money or how little empathy you have. Uranohoshi Girl’s Academy is a publicly funded government school. You do not – _can not_ – own this place.”

“Donating to the school is philanthropy, which is empathy,” Mari said. “You should know that much.”

“Money can’t buy empathy. Before I banish you from the school grounds forever, tell me: why would you come here?”

“Banish me?” Mari said. “I think you have it backwards. You are hereby relieved of your duty. I am here to assume the role of student council president.”

“What?”

Mari brandished an official-looking paper a lot like Chika had brandished her club form. As the two girls in the room most prone to action, they sure enjoyed hiding behind words.

Dia stepped forward to examine it. Her nose crinkled. “It says director, not student council president.”

“Oh. Does it? My Japanese has gone into decline this past year.”

“What are your intentions?” Dia said.

“Hold on. As the new director, doesn’t that mean you’re under me? I mean, naturally I’m a top – but that’s always been the question, hasn’t it? With two tops, who tops?”

Dia blushed. “You dare-”

“ _It’s joke!_ ” Mari said in English. “But I am the school’s new director. That’s no joke.”

“Because of them?” Dia said, like nobody else was in the room.

“Don’t they excite you? Aren’t you curious, just a little bit?”

“There will be no competitive team here so long as I am president.”

“That can change in a flash.”

“Do it, then.”

Mari smiled sweetly, but before she could do anything Dia noticed Ruby. The room dropped a few degrees in an instant. Mari’s smile disappeared.

“Ruby?” Dia said, her voice void of all combativeness.

Hanamaru stepped forward, but it was Mari that Ruby hid behind.

“Ruby,” Dia said, adopting a soft, motherly voice that could have tricked anyone who hadn’t been in the room thirty seconds ago. “Come over here.”

Nobody moved. Everything reached absolute zero and froze.

* * *

Kanan was working at the diving shop when she received the text. It was from an unknown number, which was reason enough to ignore it, but it was so oddly concise:

 _r_ _oom 212_ _now_

Assuming it wasn’t a wrong number, there weren’t too many places that it could be referring to. Not many buildings in Uchiura had so many rooms. And, completely irrelevant to the text, she _had_ been meaning to pay Dia a visit. It was about time to fill out the paperwork to return to school. Maybe she would do that now, and check out that room while she was there. Just as a curiosity.

So Kanan made her way to Uranohoshi Girl’s Academy. Though having spent so much time diving and working lately, she nearly went in her wetsuit and had to backtrack to change.

When she made it to the school and found the student council president’s office empty, she considered texting Dia. Kanan scrolled through the sparse messages they’d share recently – it had dropped dramatically since their first year of high school – and ultimately decided against it. After picking up the paperwork from the administration office, she made her way to room 212, on the second floor of the second building on campus.

The room was a forgotten place – even two years ago it had been. It was in a corner of the school and had maybe never seen regular use. The architects had greater visions for the place than Uranohoshi could handle. In fact, there had been rumours about room 212 being the magical lost and found, with things that disappeared throughout the school showing up there.

Standing outside, she could hear voices. It felt colder, even just staring at the door. She clutched her phone tighter.

Kanan never lacked confidence. It was something of a habit, from diving. So long as she knew what to do and how to do it, there was no reason to panic. Underwater, panic could be deadly.

So she opened the door.

Lots of people were inside. Like, eight, or something – which had to be half the school body, judging from all the talk of lowered enrolment rates. She immediately recognized Chika, who if not already registered as Tangerine-Murderess in her phone was the most likely suspect of the text. Yō was there, too, and Kanan felt a little guilty about both remembering her as a bad archer and letting her die. Dia stood near the door, postured against everyone else in the room. That was a common enough sight. And though Kanan had never seen them interact, she imagined Chika and Dia were like water and oil. Beyond these three, there were a handful of strangers – mostly first-years, as indicated by their ribbons. And then there was Ruby, almost invisible as she hid behind-

Kanan nearly dropped her phone.

_Mari._

Like losing all light underwater, it was disorienting. Time trembled, fell back two years, but Kanan could not reconcile the younger memory with the older Mari in front of her with. Mari was more mature now, yes, but that wasn’t it. Nor was it the stunning white dress, flaunting openly the school rules, or her beautiful hair grown out longer and unbraided. The big problem was that her radiant smile and carefree attitude were missing.

And Dia was furious. She looked ready to murder someone, keep their body in a freezer, and chop off bits every year to send to loved ones.

If Chika and Dia were water and oil, then Mari and Dia were fire and oil. The situation was beyond defusing; Kanan would need a fire extinguisher to save them now.

“Dia,” Kanan said, pointing over her shoulder with a thumb.

Thankfully, Dia did not argue. She stormed out of the room.

And Kanan’s intention was to do the same with Mari, keeping that even, unaffected tone, but when she turned to Mari and opened her mouth, it was a caveman-like grunt that accompanied the gesture. Mari did not tease her. She followed after Dia.

Ruby, now without Mari’s protection, looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Kanan couldn’t quite discern what had happened, so she couldn’t offer any words of support. Instead, she nodded at the group and stepped out, closing the door a little too hard in her rush to catch up to Dia and Mari. She passed a fire extinguisher in the hallway, but a premonition told her to save it for chapter twenty-one.

The three of them walked through the halls like they were young and the school was large. They didn’t share any words, though Kanan knew all three of them were thinking of what to say. Whether those words would suffice, she did not know, but all too soon they found themselves beyond a closed door of an empty classroom on the first floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn’t work until I wrote from Kanan’s view. That being said, there won’t be many scenes written from a third year’s POV.


	18. Arm Wrestle

The cult room was super awkward after the third-years left. Ruby looked close to tears. Again, Yoshiko wanted to state, for the record, she did not mind awkwardness. But, dammit, girls like Ruby could move hearts and mountains when they were sad. Hanamaru stood a couple meters away, incapable of doing anything like she was CC’d, and it was Yō who did the comforting. Riko had to block the door to prevent Chika from doing something stupid, but that also meant everyone else was trapped inside.

Eventually, Hanamaru approached Yoshiko, who was well on her way to making her first f-word: the corner of the room.

As evidenced by Chika and Riko’s conversation, the room was large enough that whispers couldn’t be heard.

“Is there something wrong with me, zura?” Hanamaru asked.

“Yeah. Your little ‘zura’-tic.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Yoshiko groaned. The threat of a philosophical or emotional conversation was almost enough for her to go comfort Ruby herself.

“Am – am I not dependable? Do I smell? Am I fat? Do I – do I... am ugly?” Hanamaru finished in a lame whisper.

“This is neither the time, place, nor person for this conversation.”

With that rejection, Hanamaru wandered off and eventually fell into a chair and pulled out a burgundy pocketbook. Yoshiko, no longer interested in bef*****ing the wall, pulled out her cellphone and messaged her business partner. He was – rightfully so – pissed about her intentions to participate in Oratorio Live. She did her best to channel Yohane in response.

Nothing more happened until the door opened again.

Everyone looked up, maybe expecting a three-way marriage, but instead only one bloodied girl entered the room. Okay, bloodied was overly dramatic, but if not physically bloodied, Mari was emotionally. She did a good job of hiding it, however, with her upbeat attitude.

“It’s time to prove yourselves!” Mari announced to the room. “If you do, I’ll sign off on the club – you won’t need Ms Stick-Up-Her-Butt’s permission.”

“Seriously?” Chika said. “We’ll do it – ten times over and in our sleep and while we’re eating! You’re the best school director ever – never mind that I didn’t know that position existed an hour ago! So, so, what do you want us to do?” Chika looked at Mari’s shoes like they needed a polish. At least, that’s what Yoshiko hoped she was thinking.

“There’s a prefecture-wide tournament this weekend. Win it, and I’ll give you permission to run your little club.”

“Alright!” Chika shouted. “Let’s do this, and prove to everyone that we’re not normal!”

Riko groaned. “Can you please at least _try_ to phrase that differently?”

And when it looked like Ruby had finally built enough courage to speak, Mari excused herself.

“Shizuoka prefecture, huh?” Yoshiko said. She was already playing on a national level, but for the others it would be a large step up. The pool of talent was no joke, even at prefecture level. But at least they didn’t live in Tokyo.

“The last tournament was only Numazu city and a few smaller towns nearby,” Riko noted.

“Prefecture wide...” Chika said. “How many people are we talking about?”

“Roughly three and a half million,” Yoshiko said. “It’s an entirely different kind of competition altogether.”

Chika looked around desperately as if someone else in the room watched old American films. Nobody did.

Powering through Chika’s attempts at distraction, they planned a bit for the tournament. Yoshiko went online to find the game mode and rules, but it didn’t help much. Productivity was zero. They had hardly practiced together, so they didn’t know their weak points or even what they were capable of. Not to mention there was a faint unease in the room about the third-years. Chika suggested, multiple times, to trick, blackmail, or brute force Dia into joining the team. These ideas left Ruby even more uncomfortable.

The first to leave, with barely any words spoken, was Hanamaru. The rest followed shortly.

* * *

“Join us or die.”

“That’s what bad guys say,” Kanan countered. “Are you a bad guy?”

“I’m a good girl,” Chika said. “Right, Yō?”

“Uh.” Yō knew the answer, but was hit with a momentary inability to speak.

“See?” Chika said, filling in the blanks.

Kanan frowned. “Not seen.”

Their visits to the diving shop had increased in frequency lately. Yō didn’t mind because Kanan was good company and the weather was always nice and the memories nicer. With an ice cold barley tea in hand, she’d come to associate the taste of the tea to hot summer afternoons at Kanan’s.Today, there wasn’t any wind and the seagulls preferred to stay grounded, waddling along the wharf without concern for the sun’s almost overwhelming warmth. She watched the birds check empty nets and buckets while Chika did Chika-things.

“We need you, Kanan,” Chika said, in a way she’d never said to Yō. Now that there was some kind of known relationship between Kanan, Dia, and Mari, there was no stopping Chika in her conquest.

“No you don’t.”

“You know Dia and Mari, don’t you?” Chika said. “Don’t you?”

“Oh, was that obvious?” Kanan snapped in a rare show of frustration.

“Don’t be all pouty because Mari came to us first.”

“Chika,” Yō warned.

“And I’ve never even heard you talk about Dia before,” Chika continued.

“No.”

“She’s, like, the stupid council president. How could you keep it a secret? She’s got sticks and powers out the wazoo! And what about Mari? She’s super duper rich! You were friend-cheating on us this whole time!”

“I don’t know if they qualify as friends, anymore.”

“That’s something Yoshiko would say,” Chika said, before humming. “Well, actually, she’d say ‘f-words’, but that’s not the point! She seems to really care.”

“Hmm?” Kanan was focused on her watch, pressing buttons to program something on it. It looked expensive, as diving watches usually were. “Yoshiko cares?”

“Mari cares.”

“About what?”

“About everything! The school’s closing yet she still flew over here and enrolled and showed up in our club room before even saying hi to her friends.”

“Mari isn’t that kind of girl. She doesn’t say hello and goodbye. If she did, that’s all she would be saying.”

“You two should join.”

“Hmm?”

Kanan couldn’t have been that consumed with her work. She was being intentionally obtuse.

“You two – no! Three! – should join the team,” Chika said. “You could be the school’s heroes! You don’t want to have to do the graduation ceremony in the stupid town hall or something, do you? Fight for your right! Finish what you started, where you started!”

Somehow, her crusade recruitment speech changed every time. She never honed it, but that didn’t make it less effective; Yō would’ve joined a dozen times by now, if she’d been on the receiving end.

“You ever notice the irony in it?” Kanan said.

“Irony?” Chika said. “I’d never.”

“You’re playing Endless to not play Endless.”

Chika sipped her cold tea. “What do you mean?”

“If you get what you want and win Oratorio Live, then our school won’t close, so we won’t be taking lessons online. So you’ll be at school instead of on Endless.”

“Oh.” Chika looked around, maybe for a tangerine. “But I like our school.”

“So do I.”

“Then?”

“I can’t betray Dia like that.”

“Ugh.” Chika made a face. “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to be all mysterious. What does the stupid council president have to do with it? You’re friends, so what?”

“You could try asking her. It seems like you two get along nicely.”

“Very funny.”

“I’ll cut you a deal,” Kanan said. “But you’ll have to stop bothering me afterwards.”

“Alright!” Chika said, managing to make an opportunity out of nothing.

“If you can beat me at an arm-wrestle, then I’ll join the team.”

Chika jumped to her feet. “I designate Yō as my champion!” she said without hesitation.

“Uhwhat?” Yō said, looking away from the ocean and gulls.

“If that’s okay with you.”

Yō grinned and saluted. “You don’t even need to ask.”

“Let’s have our fun, then,” Kanan said. “I’ve got to return to work, soon.”

And then Yō rewound the conversation to where someone said ‘arm-wrestle’. This was bad. Kanan was, in two words, damn strong, and in three, really damn strong. She dealt with heavy diving equipment on a daily basis, but more importantly, she swam all the time, and swimming was among the best exercises there was – especially in open water, where you had to fight the waves or tame them into working in your favour.

It wasn’t that Yō was out of shape. She still went for morning runs, when she had the time, and did bodyweight exercises and the occasional swim. But she didn’t lift weights or have a strict training regimen like she did when she was a competitive high diver. Still, Chika was counting on her, so she had to win. This was it. This was the first step to proving to Chika that she was useful.

Kanan sat down across from Yō and they clasped hands. “Chika, you can count us down.”

But Chika was staring blindly at Yō, much like Yō had been staring at the seagulls.

“Chika,” Kanan said. “Earth to Chika.”

“She seems to be floating through space,” Yō observed. And, if the pressure to win hadn’t yet gotten to her, Chika’s vacant stare certainly did. “Is – is there something on my face?”

“No,” Kanan answered. “You’re fine. Not sure about Chika, though. The cosmic rays will kill her.”

“The vacuum, first.”

And, finally, “Huh?” Chika said. “I don’t wanna die. Or vacuum my room.”

“Welcome back,” Kanan said. “Want to count us down?”

“Hold on.” Yō broke the grip and wiped her hand on her shirt. She was sweating too much.

“All good?” Kanan said.

“Yeah, sure,” Yō answered. She took Kanan’s hand again. “Let’s do it.”

“And, if I win,” Kanan said, “you have to leave Dia alone. I’m serious about that. She has her reasons for wanting what she wants.”

“Even if it’s _nothing_?” Chika said.

“Even so.”

“Fine, agreed,” Chika said, “but I can’t make any promises on Ruby’s behalf.”

“Did you set her on Dia?”

“They’re sisters!” Chika said. “Something _has to_ happen at home, even without me doing anything.”

Kanan paused. “Fair enough. That’s their problem, then. Between sisters, like you said. But you and Dia are done, when I win.”

“When?” Yō challenged, before Chika drew her attention. “Chika, why do you have your phone out? Did you just take a picture of us? What are you doing? Hold on-”

“I captioned it ‘girls fighting over me,’” Chika said.

Despite the shade of the table’s parasol, Yō could feel her ears burning.

“Not too far off the mark,” Kanan said.

Yō tightened her grip a little more. “Let’s get this done, then. I think someone needs to be put in her place.”

Kanan smiled. “I’ve never seen that look on your face, before, Yō. It excites me.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just, there’s not many who would challenge me like this without flinching.”

Kanan spoke like her victory was a foregone conclusion. Like nobody could topple her, just because she was older and athletic and dammit, did Yō really stand no chance?

“I’ll do the countdown, then,” Chika said. “Three, two, one, go!”

Yō started at a hundred percent. There was no other way, because if she didn’t and Kanan did, it’d instantly become a hopeless battle, like swimming against a rip current. If she lost any ground, she’d drown. Unsurprisingly, Kanan met her strength, and aside from the quivering of their hands, there was no movement to either side.

“Hey,” Kanan grunted. “You’re an archer, aren’t you?”

“So what?”

“Any good?”

Yō had no response that she could deliver in a word or two.

“ _I’m_ pretty good,” Kanan said. “Really good, actually. If I joined, we could go far.”

This taunting was unlike Kanan. It was a cheap tactic. Sweat dripped down Yō’s forehead, butwith one hand in combat and the other gripping the table, she couldn’t wipe it away. It got in her eye and she gritted her teeth as she blinked the sting away.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Kanan continued. “Dia would be pissed. Maybe Mari, too.”

“I – don’t – care,” Yō growled.

She knew it was there, the rip current, lurking seconds away, and she knew it couldn’t be defeated. Even as it pulled her out, though, she struggled. She fought. She held her breath and dove beneath the waves, as though the current would be weaker, deeper, but that was where it got worse. She lost ground and she tumbled through the darkness until she didn’t know which direction was up, and she was a high diver, not a deep diver, so why was she in so deep? The depth’s pressure pushed in on her in all directions as her lungs begged for air and burned and finally she opened her mouth.

Her last wish was for an oxygen tank, before her hand hit the table.

“Awwww,” Chika said.

“Good match,” Kanan said. “But I couldn’t do that to Dia.”

It hadn’t been a cardio workout, yet she was still breathing heavily.

And at some point she’d closed her eyes, and now that she was seeing again it was blindingly bright. She winced and looked around. Kanan was watching her closely.

“Yeah,” Yō mumbled. They shook hands – something so gentle compared to earlier. “Good match.”

Kanan smiled. “I’ll get us some refills. It’s hot out today; make sure you stay hydrated.”

She collected their glasses and then entered the diving shop.

“It’s okay,” Chika said. “You’re still my best friend.”

Yō bit back a comment about Riko. It was a joke. Just a joke. That was what Chika did all the time.

“Here,” Chika said, offering her handkerchief. “You’re sweating. You fought hard.”

Yō took it and wiped her forehead. As bitter as the defeat was, it didn’t feel so bad anymore.

“Thanks,” Yō said, back to watching the seagulls.

* * *

Ruby wanted to talk to her older sister, really, she did, but she didn’t know how. No matter how many times she tried different scenarios in her head, none left her feeling good afterwards. And all those scenarios were ones where she had the initiative. Now, she arrived home to find Dia waiting for her. It wasn’t even an ambush inside their house. There was Dia, standing outside, arms crossed, school bag resting at her feet.

“Dia...”

“You need to stop with this.”

This wasn’t fair. Dia couldn’t ambush her like this. All the scenarios flushed themselves out of her brain and she couldn’t even pick a snippet from one of them to respond. And, maybe she panicked a little because of it.

“No?” Ruby said.

Dia looked at her like she was an alien. Ruby clapped a hand over her mouth. She wished she had a mirror to look at herself to see if Dia was right.

_What was that?_ she demanded of herself. What did she say? And why? Did ‘no’ mean that Dia was wrong? Was the universe okay? Did it need to take a sick day?

“Whatever ideas Mari put in your head, you have to forget about them,” Dia said. “She can’t be trusted. She doesn’t care about you, or me, or anyone but herself. She’s like those businessmen father always warns us about.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Well... it doesn’t matter,” Ruby said. “She has nothing to do with it.” Was that true? Had Ruby ever lied to her sister before? “I made the decision before I even saw her.” Or had Hanamaru made the decision? “And we’re going to win a big tournament this weekend and Mari will accept the club and you will need to, too!” But that would hurt Dia.

“Why?” Dia said.

“I wanted to do something for myself,” Ruby said, almost managing to raise her voice. Did she want to? Or did she just enjoy the _idea_ of it? “I’m not a child anymore.”

“You _are_ a child,” Dia countered. “You’re my younger sister.”

“You’re right,” Ruby said, the agreement instilling confidence. “I’m a high schooler now, but that’s all everyone sees me as. Your younger sister. I – I’m not saying that’s a problem – I like being your younger sister – but I want to be seen as something else, too.”

“I’m _protecting_ you, Ruby. The world isn’t a nice place. The people in it less so. Take my advice, and save yourself from the unnecessary pain of it. Quit the club.”

“You don’t need to fight her – Chika _or_ Mari,” Ruby said. “You can join them.”

“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” Dia said.

“It’s because you have the experience that you don’t need to be scared.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Of course not. Why did Ruby even say that? But, “Then why are you so against this?”

Dia picked up her bag and, leaving Ruby standing at the gate waiting for an answer, went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does all this drama force itself in? Where’s the damn beach episode? Oh well. At least we got an arm wrestle between Kanan and Yō out of the deal.


	19. Cleaning

For being so eager to throw Yoshiko under the bus earlier, Ruby was quite persistent in helping clean the cult room. Thankfully, Yoshiko, with increasing threats, managed to fend her and Hanamaru off. They were too diligent for their own good; if they helped, it would be done in mere minutes and then Yoshiko wouldn’t be able to spend any time with Riko.

“Just don’t make Riko do all the work,” Hanamaru said, as the last class of the day ended.

“I would never do something so... devilish.”

“I’m going to ask her tomorrow, zura.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll do my share. Just leave me alone.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Hanamaru said.

“Yes, that’s why I said it. I’m going, now. Don’t follow me.”

“Hold on.”

Yoshiko turned around and was met with a roll of paper towel.

“It’s dangerous to go alone,” Hanamaru said. “Take this, zura.”

If Yoshiko had had f-words, she imagined they would be a lot like Hanamaru and Ruby. She took the paper towel from Hanamaru and then a spray bottle of cleaning liquid presented by Ruby. The other day, things had been a little tense, but she supposed that was just high school girl drama. Of which Yoshiko was certainly above. Or below, depending on one’s perspective.

In any case, nobody asked Ruby how Dia was at home, and Ruby wasn’t saying anything. Actually, that might have explained Ruby’s sudden desire to clean. But Yoshiko was too ill-equipped to deal with the problems of others, so she rushed off before her brain could try.

Riko was already in the cult room by the time she arrived.

“Cleaning supplies,” Yoshiko said by way of greeting, placing the supplies on the center table.

“Good afternoon, Yoshiko. I wanted to clean the piano first, if you didn’t mind.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

She thought about it a second. The center table was easy to clean and she could take her time doing it. She sprayed half the surface down and began wiping it.

“Does Chika know, at least?” Yoshiko said, because it had been bugging her. “About why you didn’t want to join the team?”

“No.”

“You need to tell her eventually. Tell everyone.”

“I will.”

“And I’m not going to pretend like anything I said over the phone convinced you to join. So what did?”

Riko pressed a key on the piano and tilted her head like it was off-pitch. “It’s been three weeks since I left Tokyo. I had thought the move would help me. Like there is an inherent goodness to change.”

Yoshiko would have thought the opposite. Nothing in the world had inherent goodness.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Riko continued, “I don’t miss Tokyo – but I was struggling here, too, when I first arrived. Uranohoshi is a lot different from my old school. It’s fresh air. It’s not stifling. No pressure. No expectations. _Nothing_. But now the change I was expecting three weeks ago is coming. The beaches and mountains look different than when I first arrived, or maybe only now am I truly seeing them. Anyways. I’m here and I’ve accepted it and it’s only been three weeks but already I don’t want to lose it.”

“You form attachments too quickly,” Yoshiko said. “And I’m not just talking about the town and the school.”

“Chika does that to everyone. She did it to you, too, didn’t she?”

“That was a physical attachment. It doesn’t count.”

Riko laughed.

They continued cleaning in silence. Riko had a feather duster – unfortunately the feathers were white, not black – and had dusted the piano after wiping it down. She opened it up, too, and stared thoughtfully at the insides but did nothing more. Yoshiko didn’t know much about pianos, but knew they were complicated machines. Riko must not have been properly trained in maintenance. And this meant Yoshiko had to finish up the table because Riko was now moving to clean the stack of student desks in the corner of the room.

“This weekend I watched your first tournament,” Riko said. “It was impressive.”

Sure, it looked good and fun because they were trouncing complete noobs, but it would only get worse. Nothing lasted forever. Even the sun would eventually wither away and they’d be left in the cold, everlasting night.

“Chika showed me muse,” Riko said, bringing her hands to her chest. “They were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. They were inspiring – shining, as Chika put it – and I want to know why. I couldn’t – can’t – stay stagnant. Not after I’ve come so far. If I can rediscover what I love, then shouldn’t I go to any lengths to do so? I can’t do nothing when I see a brilliant future in front of me.”

“All that glitters is not gold, a certain playwright would say. Don’t be misled; it’ll only end in disappointment. When the darkness takes over, it will be too late to repent and no matter how hard everyone tries, nobody will achieve their dreams.”

“The darkness?”

“The reckoning. Hell’s havoc, unleashed upon heaven, will wreak chaos in the mortal realm and bring everything in existence to its knees.”

“?” Riko said.

“I mean – uh...” Yoshiko struggled to understand why she was so stupid. “Just don’t have your hopes too high. It won’t end like you imagine it will. That’s a promise.”

“How can you know? How can you be so sure?”

“Did you forget? I’m cursed. And even if you don’t believe in my bad luck, trust in my karma, tainted for an eternity. For I, the Fallen Angel Yohane, have cut the endless knot, ruining the continuum of the mind and bringing disunity to the world.”

Crap. She did it again. She was relaxing too much around Riko. Maybe she did need to keep Hanamaru close to bop her on the head every time she lost grip on reality.

Thankfully, Riko only laughed. And it wasn’t the popular mean girl kind of laugh that Yoshiko was acquainted with – it was genuine, silly laughter.

“So there you have it,” Yoshiko said, chancing a smile. “Now, let’s get back to cleaning.”

After wiping down the window sills, which had about as much dust as there was sand on the beaches of Uchiura, she found herself next to the piano.

Yoshiko pressed a key.

Its distinct sound rang through the room.

“It still needs tuning,” Riko said. “I’m hesitant to do it myself, though.”

“It sounds good enough to me.”

“What’s good enough to you?” Riko approached the piano and played a few notes with one hand. “It means something different to everyone, so the only way it’s good enough for everyone is if it’s perfect.”

“Perfection is impossible.”

“It’s a goal to strive towards.”

Yoshiko could sense another disagreement that would end badly, so she searched for a topic change.

“What about the cabinets?”

Riko looked unsure. “We’d be here all evening, if we cleaned those.”

“Fair enough,” Yoshiko said. Though she wouldn’t have minded, really. “Have you peeked inside, at least?”

“No.” Again, she seemed hesitant. “If we do, then I’ll want to clean everything in them.”

“Ah. Best not to, then. The greatest bliss in this dark world is ignorance.”

“Right,” Riko said, before brightening up. “Besides, what’s the worst that could be in there?”

They were making good progress and a short while later it was time to tackle the curtains – ugly things that deserved to be thrown out the windows. A proper cleaning would mean taking them down and washing them, but considering how faded they were, and how many moths they’d fed, it wasn’t worth it. Yoshiko pulled the curtains closed over the window and shook them. Spiders and dust billowed and she retreated a few steps and sneezed.

“Bless you,” Riko said.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Should we take these curtains down completely?”

“We don’t have a club budget to buy new ones.”

Yoshiko really wanted to burn them, but Riko was right. And it also made Yoshiko wonder how old the school was. These curtains looked like they’d been made before the last world war, but that long ago the town couldn’t have been big enough to warrant a school. It was nonsense. Yoshiko vowed she would attend a fancy university in Tokyo with nice curtains, when the time came.

At the other end of the room, Riko tried to learn from Yoshiko’s mistake. She opened the window to create some airflow before closing and shaking the curtains. Despite her efforts, the dust went the wrong way. She recoiled and sneezed.

“Gesundheit,” Yoshiko said, because, look, localization was hard for fallen angels, okay?

“Thanks.”

With the curtains closed, the room was dim. Yoshiko liked it better that way. The darkness was comfortable in a way she couldn’t really explain. She glanced over to Riko, and, with eyes attuned to the dark, noticed something.

“Riko,” she said suddenly.

And maybe she was a little too intense, because when she approached, Riko backed up. Though she could only go so far before she bumped into the wall. Cornered.

“Huh?” Riko said, sounding like the off-tune piano.

“Don’t move.”

Yoshiko stopped definitely inside her personal space, but it was necessary. And to prevent Riko’s escape – and stabilize herself – she planted a hand on the wall.

Riko, blushing, looked to the side.

“Umm...”

“Quiet. Look at me.”

Riko obeyed, and Yoshiko reached out. At about that point, she was distracted by Riko’s eyes and, really, the entirety of her expression, and then she started to have an inkling of what it looked like to an outside observer. But she was committed; backing out now would be worse. She couldn’t speak because her brain, now too aware, was trying to shift into Shakespeare-mode and all she would end up saying was something so embarrassing that it would keep her up at night, like, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’

So instead her fingers combed through Riko’s hair, brushing her ear by accident, and then, finally, found what they were looking for and pulled away.

“Wasp spider,” Yoshiko said, holding out her hand to show the spider as it scurried in loops around her hand and fingers.

“Oh.”

“Their venomous bite isn’t a problem unless you have allergies. They pack less of a punch than their namesake and aren’t as aggressive.”

“Oh.”

“Anyways, sorry. Most people don’t like spiders and I didn’t want you to freak out or anything.”

“Oh.”

“Really, it’s the yellow belly that scares people.” It tickled and she brought it in for a closer inspection. The yellow was really something on this one. “But that’s what makes it cool, yeah?”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Yoshiko opened a window and let him free on the wall outside.

“Sorry, buddy,” she said. “This is my territory, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Riko, you sweet summer child.


	20. That's Elephant!

Riko had the awareness of an unharvested potato and Hanamaru was doing her best imitation of a high-metabolism sloth – namely, moving slow and dying fast.

After a bit of mid-battle strategizing, they glued Riko to Chika; it was better for one player to receive all the buffs than for Riko to worry about AoE and get overwhelmed with trying to track everyone’s actions. Thankfully, Yō was everything they needed, in that regard. She would shoot her support arrows on ridiculously high trajectories and they would land some fifteen seconds later exactly where the action was happening. This and her wide array of utility abilities evenly distributed among the team gave Yoshiko some confidence.

Though Hanamaru knew, in theory, what to do, her execution was lacking. She made up for this with Talon, her falcon. He was able to act somewhat independently, and scouted the enemy and provided distractions. This made an effective team with Ruby. Since Yoshiko was keeping her distance from the enemy, she was able to spend most of her time next to Hanamaru, and thus could tell how pleased Hanamaru was by Talon and Ruby’s newfound relationship: in a word, not.

* * *

Yō tried on a smile.

They were at the stairs by the shrine near the school. The rest would be joining them shortly, but for now it was her and Chika. Never before had there been a need to cheer Chika up. So Yō wasn’t sure if this was a first, or if thinking so was a mistake. But Chika was quiet.

And, if Yō really thought about it, how was she supposed to brighten the sun? It was impossible. Nothing could do such a thing.

The match had been a disaster. Though the numbers didn’t look bad on paper, at no point during the battle did it feel like they had any sort of control. They weren’t coming together as a team. Something was missing. It was hard to say what that was, beyond experience, but dismissing it as a problem that would go away with more practice was a dangerous mindset. Confidence was important, but they had been confident going into the tournament and still lost.

And though it was one loss, it meant nearly everything. Competition was fierce, and if they didn’t start climbing to the front of the pack then they would never get to Oratorio Live’s prelims. Not to mention, they now had to deal with the crazy school director.

Yō had made sure to record the battle from her point of view, so she could analyze her gameplay later, but Chika insisted the entire group have a meeting immediately. Of course, the word ‘strategy’ was absent, but if they were all meeting in person, it was inevitable. This would be nothing like their karaoke celebration.

Finally, Yō remembered a piece of good news.

“I’ve made some friends within the Frontier Fighters,” she said. “If they find any lead on the dragon, they’ll let us know.”

“The dragon?” Chika said.

“Yes.”

A couple seconds passed.

“Oh, right. The dragon.” Chika laughed and rubbed her neck. “I forgot about that.”

“Forgot about it?” Yō couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was this another instance of getting left behind? “How could you forget about it? What about Bronzicator? What about Panini?”

Chika’s gaze was fixated down the road. “I was thinking, y’know, it’s not really that important, is it? I’m managing just fine with my current sword.”

“It’s common steel,” Yō said.

“Yeah, and it’s good...-ish. The dragon was just me being mad and all, but grudges are silly, y‘know? And maybe I do a lot of silly things, sure, but maybe it’s time I stop doing a lot of silly things, too. So, yeah. The dragon. I’ve moved on. I have to focus on the team. We’re going to transcend our average high school lives and win Oratorio Live!”

“You... you can’t be serious?”

“I am serious,” Chika said, before hesitating. “And that’s just how it is. It wasn’t meant to be. Something like, I dunno, destiny? But the good kind – not the creepy, depressing one Yoshiko always talks about.”

“You don’t want Panini back?”

Chika shrugged. “I want everything. But more than that, I want all of us to succeed. It won’t matter that I’m shining, if I’m alone.”

“Oh,” Yō said. She would not accept it. “If that’s how you feel.”

“Good!” Chika said. “I’m glad we had this talk. So now let’s focus on what’s important.”

“Yeah.”

“Ah!” Chika pointed down the road. “I spy a girl.”

Riko.

Yō watched as Chika ran over to meet the girl.

* * *

It took a while for everyone to arrive. The group was gloomy, even as Chika tried to cheer them up. She brought out her full arsenal of jokes and handed out tangerines. Ruby somehow got a lollipop out of the deal, as well. Chika threw out platitude after platitude, but maybe it was working. Yō was already thinking forward to the next match. Was it possible to transition to a new class, while playing competitive, or was that trying to do too much? And what about the dragon? How much more would Yō’s performance suffer, if she allocated too much of her time to hunting down the dragon?

Chika suddenly stopped talking.

Yō looked up.

Walking down the road with a self-important stride was none other than the student council president.

Once she was close enough, she said, “This was supposed to happen earlier.”

“What?” Chika said.

“You were supposed to lose your first competitive match. So you could understand the absurdity of your dream.”

“It’s not absurd!”

“Your goals are unrealistic.” Dia paused to cross her arms and look around at everyone except her own sister. “It won’t save the school, and it won’t be fulfilling. This is the wrong way to go about your high school lives. It’ll leave you worse off than before – regret is insufficient to describe how you’ll feel – and you’ve brought my sister into this. I can’t forgive that. Stop trying to do the impossible.”

Chika was angry, and maybe Yō should have advised her to be polite to the student council president, but Yō was angry too, albeit for different reasons.

“Impossible?” Chika demanded. “Who are you to say what’s impossible? You just sit in your comfy chair behind your nice desk, acting all high and mighty with your power and money and – and beauty – and intelligence and cute sister – and probably a bunch of other great things too – and yet what have you actually done for the school?”

“I’m fighting in my own ways. Words are more effective, when fighting adults, than these silly tantrums of yours.”

Chika laughed bitterly. “Words are cheap. Yet you mock us for trying, when you wouldn’t even dare!”

“We dared. Everything I’ve said – all my experiences – it’s you who dismisses them and chalks it up to emotions.”

“You-” Chika did a double-take. “Whaaa?”

“We tried. Kanan, Mari, and I.”

“You mean...?”

“Yes. I speak from first-hand experience. Two years ago, it was the perfect storm; the exponential rise of Endless Oratorio’s popularity, and us – Kanan, Mari, and I – with our endless optimism... failure hadn’t even been a consideration. And for the longest time, our naïvety was justified. We were unstoppable. We were at our peak-”

“And we fell all the harder because of it,” Mari said.

Dia spun around.

Both Mari and Kanan were there, walking down the road. They looked like they were on a casual evening stroll. But it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Why are you here?”

“We followed you, obviously,” Mari said. “I installed a tracking app on your phone.”

Credit to Dia, she didn’t even reach for her phone. “You did no such thing. I’m not so stupid that I would believe for a second that you would care where I was.”

“Of course I care,” Mari said. “How else could I ever track all the copious dates you go on? Your parents appreciate being kept in the loop, too.”

“The only stifling parents are your own,” Dia shot back.

“That’s enough,” Kanan said. Her presence seemed only to be as a moderator, or referee if the situation devolved sufficiently.

“Chika,” Dia said, refocusing the conversation, “now that you know the truth, you can go ahead and give up. Nobody will judge you. They won’t even remember this escapade of yours.”

“I will!” Chika said. “I’ll remember, and I’ll judge myself!”

“You’re naïve.”

“I’m allowed to be. I’m a young girl!”

“Hear, hear!” Mari shouted.

Why was she agreeing? Wasn’t she supposed to shut them down, now? Yet it didn’t look like Mari and Dia were allies, just yet.

“You were supposed to win this tournament, silly,” Mari said.

“Um,” Chika said. “Sorry?”

“You’d better be. Now I need to shut you all down.”

“ _What?_ ” Dia said.

“Hold on!” Chika shouted.

“It’s joke!”

“Huh?”

“We’ll fight to the end,” Mari said. “I didn’t come all the way here just to give up!”

“But you’ll do so all the same,” Dia said. “You’re as bad as the rest of them – no, you’re worse.”

“We all heard your reaction when I said I was shutting them down,” Mari said. “Don’t play coy.”

“I was only reacting to your idiocy.”

“Dia.” Kanan didn’t say anything immediately. She was able to slow the conversation with just Dia’s name. “You need to stop taking this out on your juniors. Whatever resistance you feel you ought to give is unfounded. Let them make their mistakes.”

If anything, Dia turned more aggressive. Being outnumbered seemed to only fuel her. Especially since it came from the unbiased moderator.

“The only obligation I feel here is to my sister.”

Kanan did not look impressed. She looked both ways down the street, and then up the stairs. Fortunately for her, Dia and Mari were standing close enough together that she could grab both their wrists at the same time and drag them up towards the shrine. Chika looked ready to sacrifice a limb or two to follow and eavesdrop on their conversation. Yō let Riko block the staircase. After the third-years had left, it only took a full minute staring contest before Chika gave up and wandered back to the stunned group.

“Hey, hey,” she said, elbowing Yō.

“What is it?”

“Dia plays.” Chika held out an open hand. “She plays Endless. Competitive, too.”

“Played,” Yō corrected, before sighing. “Ever consider using your excellent memory for scholastic purposes?”

“School doesn’t profit.”

Placing a thousand yen bill in Chika’s hand, Yō said, “Once day you’ll regret it.”

“But not today.”

* * *

Dia was in the lead as the third-years returned. For a second, she was the only one visible and Yō wondered if she’d murdered the other two, but then they finally showed up, following a ways behind. In a word, the student council president looked tired. Whether or not she’d won the battle, it was over.

“I withdraw my previous objections,” Dia said immediately. She didn’t stop as she walked passed them. “You can do as you want.”

“Yes!” Chika said. “We’re nine, now! We need to celebrate!”

“Nine?” Dia said, her quick escape foiled. “How do you figure?”

“...seven, eight, nine...” Chika mumbled. “Hey, I’m right! Don’t try to trick me! I’m not _that_ stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all,” Riko said, as if there were brownie points to be scored.

“We never said anything about joining the team,” Dia said.

“I’m in, of course,” Mari said. “Some things don’t need saying in the first place.”

Kanan nodded. “If it’s come to this.”

“ _I_ never said anything about joining the team,” Dia said.

Chika blinked. “But you said we could do as we want. And we want you on the team.”

“And what about what _I_ want?”

“You want to be like Eli, don’t you? She was the student council president and won Oratorio Live! And – and you want to be with Kanan and Mari, despite always acting annoyed around them – and you want to save the school and you want to spend more time with your sister and create unforgettable memories with her and you want to experience the thrill of battle again and you want to be in a team full of people as dedicated as you are and you want to not regret anything and you want to not leave your journey incomplete and you want to shine and-”

“Enough,” Dia said. “I get the point.”

“Oh, good. Because I was out of points, actually.” Chika laughed. “So? How about it?”

“There is _some_ truth in _some_ of your statements,” Dia said.

And to clinch it, their secret weapon stepped forward. Actually, Chika sorta pushed her forward. Still, she looked up to her big sister with those big eyes that made Yō sorta wish she had a younger sister.

* * *

And yada yada, the third-years joined.

“Alright!” Chika said. “I knew it would turn out like this!”

“How could you know such a thing?” Yō said.

“I dreamt it, or something, maybe? Now, group picture time! To commemorate the moment!”

Mari’s phone had the best camera, so they used hers. After taking a minute to experiment with the environment, they settled on balancing it atop a signpost. Mari declared herself an expert photographer and that they had the perfect lighting from that angle.

“Dia, center, please. Kanan, you’re too tall – get back.” Mari leaned back and rubbed her chin. “Looking good. Now, everyone scoot in closer. On top of each other, preferably. Fifteen second timer, and I’m warning all you not to look too cute. If I’m not the best one in the picture, we’re taking it again.”

That ended up being a lie, because Mari was satisfied despite Chika being in the picture.

* * *

They were in the club room reading about upcoming tournaments and changes to the game mechanics. Well, most of them were reading about that. Hanamaru was already up to date on everything, so she was eating. Chika wasn’t, so she was eating as well. Mari had brought in a lot of paperwork, claiming they were related to her director duties. Yoshiko had seen a few cat pictures mixed in between the spreadsheets and graphs.

But everyone else was studious.

Until Ruby began with the hard-hitting questions. Nothing good ever started with a question from Ruby.

“What are we?” she said.

“Mortals, for the most part,” Yoshiko answered, hoping to avoid any philosophy.

“No – I mean, didn’t we need a team name to participate in the tournament last weekend?”

Everyone looked up from what they were doing, except Chika who continued munching on mochi.

A few munches later, Riko said, “Chika.”

Chika swallowed. “What’s with this suddenly tense atmosphere?” she said. “Can’t we just leave the elephant alone? They’re endangered!”

“It’s impossible to enter a tournament without a team name. What did you call us?”

“That’s elephant!”

“What?”

“Irrelevant, I said. It’s irrelevant!”

Yoshiko had kinda hoped they were ‘That’s Elephant!’ because as far as team names went, Chika could only do worse.

“You’re outnumbered,” Riko continued. “We say it’s relevant.”

“Are you sure?” Yoshiko said. “Some things are better left unknown. And by some I mean most.”

“We can’t keep competing when we don’t know who we are.”

“Relax,” Chika said. “I know how important it is, so I made sure to get it right.”

“How could you, without consulting with the rest of us?”

“I peeked at the script.”

Hanamaru _eeped_ and pulled her book bag tighter against her body.

“Relax. That was weeks ago. And I promise not to look at it anymore.”

“The script?” Ruby said, intrigued. “What did it say? Did you know we were going to lose our last match?”

“Of course not,” Chika said. “I only looked at the team name. It was, like, on the front cover. Didn’t even crack it open.”

Everyone relaxed.

After a few seconds of silence, Yō said, “So, what is it? What are we?”

“Snoby.”

“Dear lord,” Kanan said, putting her head in her hands.

“ _Snoby?_ ”

“That sounds lame.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“Who wrote the script?”

“I don’t know what I expected.”

“I can’t say I approve.”

Indeed, Chika had done worse.

“Uh, hey, Hanamaru,” she said, “can I get some support over here?”

Mute, Hanamaru set her book bag on the table. Everyone watched with bated breath as she unzipped the bag and reached in. And then she pulled out a burgundy book that Yoshiko had seen her reading on multiple occasions. This book, though small, shone like Chika wanted to. There was lettering on the front that Yoshiko had never noticed before, and Hanamaru stood the book up on the table for everyone to see.

“Huh?” Chika said. “I could’ve sworn...”

“Aqours?” Ruby said.

“Not a bad name.”

“I like it.”

“It’s cute!”

“A respectable team name.”

“Shiny~”

“How did you do that?” Ruby said, intent on continuing with the problematic questions.

“Huh?” Mari said.

“That squiggly line next to your ‘shiny’.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Mari admonished. “I can’t reveal the secrets of the adult world. You’ll figure it out when you’re older.”

“The...” Ruby’s eyes widened as she whispered, “the adult world...”

“Mari,” Dia said. “Don’t be putting weird ideas in my younger sister’s head.”

“Oh, I see, I see! You’re jealous,” Mari answered. “You would rather I put them in yours~”

Dia stood up and managed one step forward in the same time Mari danced back three. There would be no catching her, and Dia seemed to understand that. Not to mention, a chase would be too undignified for her to partake in. She sat back down and resorted to verbal warfare.

“The adult world?” Dia scoffed. “You’re nowhere near such a thing. Don’t think I didn’t see those cat memes you printed out.”

Mari gasped. “I did it for you! I knew you’d look over, since you’re always watching me.”

“Who prints memes?” Dia said, forgetting about the Kunikida family.

“I don’t know,” Mari said, covering her face and fake crying. “I don’t know what I’m doing! Please, Dia, help me. Take my hand and lead me into the adult world!”

“Hey,” Chika said. “Wait a second! What about Snoby? Snoby isn’t a bad name!”

“Did you grab the wrong book, maybe?” Riko said, sympathetic when nobody else was.

“Do you need reading glasses?” Yō said. She tilted her head and squinted, as if imagining them on Chika.

“Nobody said it was bad,” Riko continued.

“But it is,” Yoshiko said.

“Yoshiko!”

“Wait!” Chika said, refusing reality in a way that Yoshiko could respect. “Flip it upside down! See? See?!? It’s Snoby!”

But Hanamaru had already put the book away, never to be seen again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mari wants this story to be rated M for Mari.


	21. Panties

Dia, behind schedule but not by much, rushed into the club room without caution.

What she witnessed inside, she vowed never to speak of aloud. That histrionic scene of fire, tears, and panties was better to fade from memory than be admitted into existence by the power of words.

The lights were off. Splayed out on the table, on a newly laid black tablecloth, was Chika’s corpse, naked but for her undergarments. She died with a grin on her face, like life was some great joke that could only be understood in death. Yō was standing nearby, weeping like a widow, hands covering her face but not quite her eyes. Chika was framed by a pentagram within a circle made of white powder, possibly not legal judging by everything else going on.

The piano was not a pipe organ, but nobody had told it that, so there was Riko, sitting at the piano bench playing a baleful hymn that gave Dia goosebumps. When Riko glanced up, her expression was undecipherable, or a little defeated.

Yet the second-years weren’t the worst of it.

Four candles were the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. Three of these were the candles in the candelabra held by Hanamaru. She clutched the brass tightly like the flames wanted to leap out and burn Chika’s corpse and all witnesses. Dia wouldn’t have minded. The fourth flame was a candle placed at the base of Chika’s feet.

“ _Conceit, conceive, concentrate, concept, concern._ ” Indeed, concern was what Dia felt, as the words tumbled out of Yoshiko’s mouth. It was disconcerting how little breath Yoshiko needed to continuously spew out the words from the book held open in front of her by Hanamaru. Yoshiko’s school uniform was cloaked by a large black shawl, which was suspiciously similar to the cloth Chika was laying on. The chanting paused as Yoshiko looked up to the disturbance at the door, but then its efforts redoubled. Yes, Yoshiko was only a conduit; the chanting had a life of its own.

But believe it or not, the chuuni and bookstand weren’t the worst of it. No. Those closest to the heart struck hardest: in the midst of it all, Ruby. Dia’s poor, younger sister, brainwashed or worse, willing, held in both hands black lace panties. Dia tried not to look too closely, out of fear that she’d need to take chopsticks to her eyes over supper that evening to rid herself of the image.

And there, in the shadows, the Norwegian troll doll – no, the mastermind manipulator, Mari – peeling a tangerine while smiling innocently.

“You!” Dia started.

Mari continued to peel her tangerine like the accusation couldn’t possibly have been at her. It was Chika who reacted. She stirred. Her foot bumped the candle at her feet. It fell. With a _whoosh_ , reality evacuated the room and the tablecloth ignited, and from there so did the white powder, which, like a fuse, ran a circle of fire around Chika.

And thus, the portal to Hell had opened.

* * *

Mari was the first in the club room. Because of her special duty, she was allowed to bow out of class a little early every day. It was ripe for abuse.

The empty room was quite clean at a glance; her juniors did a good job. As she walked around the room, thinking mostly about how best to cause chaos, she realized she didn’t know the first-years and second-years very well. A common goal was good to have, to get closer as a team, but Oratorio Live was so far in the future. They needed a short term goal. Something that could unite them by sunset. It was time to make full use of the room. She began by opening the cupboards and investigating everything they had. It was quite an inventory, between the art supplies, old computers and sewing machines, and dishes.

Behind a stack of cooking bowls, she found a container of salt. There was nothing unusual about it. She licked a finger, dipped it in, and licked again. Just in case. But, yes, it was salt. They could cook something. But most ingredients were in the home economics classroom. It was better if the activity stayed in their club room.

She continued rummaging through the room’s contents. Nothing had changed in the time she’d been gone. There were still all these odd knick-knacks that had somehow ended up here after getting lost on school grounds. One of the school’s seven mysteries was about a tanuki that went around stealing things. Maybe this was where he put his loot. She’d like to meet him, one day.

In a small corner drawer, Mari found what she didn’t know she was looking for. It was almost too perfect. There, bunched in the corner behind old file folders and documents, were small black lace panties. She unfolded them and thought thoughtfully.

The lingerie was way too sexy for a high schooler to wear. It was obvious why they were here: a girl a long time ago had brought them in as a joke gift and they were passed around and most everyone laughed about it and then forgot about it.

Mari examined them some more. She was pretty sure she could pull it off. The director of an entire school was, after all, a very mature job. And they did look clean...

The door opened and the second-years filed in. Chika trailed behind, carrying a large box of tangerines. The three of them stopped and stared at Mari, which was odd because they’d already met so there was no reason to be stunned by her beauty. Oh, no, wait, they were staring at the risqué piece of lingerie in her hands.

If Mari had been a little less experienced in the art of chaos, she would have claimed they were hers and weirded everyone out and had a good laugh over it. But now, she knew better. Like a psychic, she could see the end game. She knew exactly what she needed to say and do. She was simply the channel through which fate would take them to their glorious future.

“They were here when I got here,” Mari said. “On the table.”

“Eh?” Chika said.

Riko crossed her arms. “Who would do such a thing?”

“I’m not sure,” Mari said, “but – but it must be a message.”

“A threat?” Yō said.

“Couldn’t be.” Mari shoved the panties forward. “Do these look threatening to you?”

The second-years backed away as one.

Chika made a wide circle around Mari until she reached the other side of the table, where she heaved the box of tangerines onto the table.

“Never mind threats,” Chika said. “I brought tangerines for everyone.”

“Don’t change the subject! Maybe I’m wrong,” Mari said, as though the very thought of it wasn’t preposterous. She put the panties on the table and grabbed a tangerine. “Maybe they _are_ dangerous. Now that I think about it, I remember one of the school’s seven mysteries.”

“I’ve never heard about our school having any mysteries,” Yō said.

“Every school in Tokyo had their own,” Riko said. “It shouldn’t be a surprise Uranohoshi has theirs. But it’s all silly things, anyways.”

“Silly?” Mari challenged. “Not this one. It was horrific; a girl died because of cursed black lace panties! They drained her energy and she fell into a deep coma. A week later, she woke up in the hospital spouting nonsense before passing away of a heart attack.”

And now it was time to put her minimal research to use. She winked at her most likely ally, then subtly nodded down to the panties.

Chika, quick on the cue and adult underwear, gingerly lifted up the panties.

Mari gasped. “The girl who went into a coma – I remember her name, now! It was Chika!”

“That’s a funny coincidence,” Chika said.

“How are you feeling?” Mari said, panic seeping into her voice. “Are – are you tired, or anything?”

“Now that you mention it, I am,” Chika said, sitting on the table next to the tangerines and suppressing a yawn.

“You wouldn’t be tired if you didn’t stay up all night playing Endless,” Yō said.

“It’s not that!” Mari proclaimed. “It’s the same that happened to the girl who died! Something is trying to take over Chika’s body! We must stop it!”

Chika’s eyes widened a bit. “Hold on, should I not be holding on to these? I don’t wanna-”

She slumped backwards onto the table, unconscious.

“Chika!” Yō shouted.

The door opened and for a second Mari thought it was Dia and all her plans would be ruined but then Yoshiko, Hanamaru, and Ruby entered. Ruby, last, demonstrated a powerful sort of sixth sense when she immediately turned to leave.

“Wait!” Mari said.

“I forgot my bag in the classroom,” Ruby said, holding her bag closely.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything. Have fun.”

This wouldn’t do. Ruby was to be a critical player in upcoming events. Mari needed to keep her here. And there was only one line that would do it. Mari rushed forward, finally getting Ruby to turn around.

“They’re your sister’s,” Mari said, thrusting the panties into her hands. “You need to take them.”

The shock worked, and before Ruby even realized what she was doing, the panties were in her hands.

“My sister’s?” Ruby said.

“But now they’re trying to take over Chika’s body!”

“Now you’re talking,” Yoshiko said, stepping forward.

“Yes,” Mari said, “it’s a very powerful curse.”

“A curse, you say?” Yoshiko laughed. “Worry not! That is my area of specialty.”

Mari smiled. Just according to keikaku[1].

She offered the salt to Yoshiko and said, “Pour it.”

“Salt?” Yoshiko hesitated. “Don’t we have sugar, or something?”

“What?” Mari screeched. “Isn’t salt the thing you use for occult rituals?”

“Well, yes, that’s what the good guys use. Salt has great purifying properties. But I’m afraid it’s a little dangerous for one like me to use without proper personal protective equipment.”

“How else are we going to remove the curse, then?”

“ _Remove_ it?” Yoshiko said. “Who said anything about removing it?”

“ You’re going to leave her like this?” Y ō  demanded .

“No. I was going to strengthen the curse. Chika may be gone, but her body can still be of use. If I can stabilize her vessel and bring in a demon from Hell, it would be forever in my debt. I’d have a minion! A real-life minion!”

“Yoshiko!” Yō chided.

“Enough. I am Yohane, now. And either you’re with me or against me.”

“What of Chika?” Riko said, the intensity of the conversation finally sucking her in.

“Worry not. It can only be an improvement,” Yohane said. “Now, Riko, act as my most trusted assistant. Pour the salt around Chika’s body. Try to make it as circular as possible.”

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Riko said, but she still took the salt when Mari handed it over.

“No,” Yohane said, “but if that had ever stopped you before, you wouldn’t be here.”

Riko began to pour the salt, but it was too slow and too moderated. Like she still had doubts. Given, Yohane’s last line would cause a lot of people to do some self-reflection.

“We must act quickly!” Mari said. Panic was infectious and good at making people not think. “Whatever we choose to do, we must act before her body becomes unusable!”

“What – what should I do?” Yō said.

“Strip her!” _Obviously_.

“Eh? Are you serious?”

“Yes! Quick,” Mari said. “We don’t have time!”

“Chika,” Yō said, “if you don’t open your eyes in the next three seconds, you leave me no choice.”

Yō counted to three in one picosecond, and then set to work. Friends were a great thing, Mari decided. It tore down barriers like nothing else. Even when those barriers were as powerful as school uniforms.

“I’ve found a sufficient tome,” Yohane said, waving an old dictionary. “But we need to fix the lighting situation. Hold on – I think I have just the thing in my bag. Here, Zuramaru, take the scripture. And Lily, are you done, yet? It’s not cooking science; dump it! Yō, she’s unconscious; you don’t need to be so gentle. Peel Chika like she’s a tangerine and you have scurvy, not like she’s a scab and you’re a pussy! Time is ticking, ladies! I want to see a sense of urgency, here!”

This was beautiful. Mari hardly needed to do anything. It exceeded her expectations. She took to a corner to watch, and began peeling a Chika.

In minutes, everything was prepared. The lights were off and candles lit and pentagram drawn. Yohane had somehow pulled a candelabra from her book bag. Riko, reluctant but carried by the fervency of the moment, was playing a dark song at the piano. Hanamaru held light and book, and Yohane began to read. The most important job of all belonged to Ruby, who held the panties out at arm’s length towards Chika’s unconscious body.

If Mari had been god, she would have chosen that moment for Dia to arrive.

The door opened, and Mari was god.

Kanan was there, too, but her reaction wasn’t nearly as entertaining.

There was something to be said for how quickly Dia could understand a room. And the way she could go from an impassive machine to a bristly porcupine was endlessly amusing. It made being around Dia as exhilarating as walking a tightrope. Also, how cute would a porcupine Dia be?

“You!” Dia said, singling out Mari.

Chika stirred at the noise. Her foot bumped the candle and it fell over and ignited the table cloth. The fire spread to the powder encircling her, and the room was smoke and flames in seconds.

Yoshiko stopped the incantation and removed her shawl and began whipping it at the fire, attempting to put it out. Hanamaru quickly blew out the flames she held, and then turned around and succumbed to a coughing fit.

In a rush to escape the circle of fire, Chika leapt off the table. Maybe by accident, or due to magnetism, her foot caught the box of tangerines on the way, and pulled them off the table. They spilled all across the floor.

The original Candle of Chaos, its wick still lit, rolled off the table, and Yō slipped on it or a tangerine or a banana peel. She went down, hard, and the candle spun across the floor to the windows, where it bumped the curtains, ever so gently. Reality _whooshed_ again. The curtains, nice and dry timber for a bonfire, or one of Yohane’s pyres, ignited in a fury. Ruby dropped the panties, jumped over Yō’s corpse, and pulled Hanamaru to safety.

“Hyah!” Chika exclaimed, pouring the last remnants of her water bottle onto the burning table.

It was a valiant effort, but rendered useless by Kanan, who showed up to save them all.

“Stand back,” she warned, lifting a fire extinguisher.

If Mari had played a more passive role in everything, she might have tried to convince Kanan to let her use the fire extinguisher because she had never used one before but always wanted to. As it were, she was better off fading into the background for a bit. Kanan unloaded all over the room, leaving the gooey white substance on every surface. Mari quite enjoyed it, despite not being an active participant.

The aftermath was a sudden, sizzling silence. Kanan, perhaps the only competent person in the room, went around and opened the windows and the smoke slowly started to filter out. Still, the room was hazy like fog during a zombie apocalypse.

Honestly, it was an improvement. Those curtains had been ugly. And now the table had some personality. The large burnt ring on the table was like when someone forgot to use a coaster and their glass of water left a pale mark on the wood.

Amazingly, and luckily, the fire alarm hadn’t gone off. When was the last time they’d been tested? Did they even work? Was this something a school’s director was responsible for? Mari decided never, no, and hell naw.

The nine of them took a while to calm their breathing and absorb what had happened. Unsurprisingly, Dia was the first to speak.

“You!” Dia repeated, like she hadn’t learned her lesson.

“There’s a perfectly good explanation for all of this,” Mari said.

“Enlighten me.”

Mari frowned for a moment as she figured it out. “We were summoning you,” she said.

Dia, weaponless but still ready to kill, charged. Thankfully, Kanan intercepted, giving her a great hug.

“Let me go, Kanan. I’m going to kill her! You want this as much as I do!”

However correct Dia was, Kanan did not let go until she calmed down.

“I can’t believe it,” Yoshiko said, kicking at the ashes of one of the curtains. “We just cleaned this room.”

“It’s your fault,” Riko said.

“You underestimate your role in the events,” Yoshiko said. “Your music is powerful enough to move people. In particular, it moved Chika-”

“I was being taken over by a demon!” Chika cried. “You can’t blame me!”

“Wait!” Dia said, working herself up again. “Where are they?”

Everyone paused.

“Where are who?” Chika said slowly, looking around the room.

“The – the you-know-whats.” Dia’s face was red from all the yelling, and probably a few other reasons, too. “Where are they?”

“What are the you-know-whats?” Chika said. “If you’re talking about the tangerines, they’re all over the floor. _Aaall_ over.”

“The – the unspeakables!”

“Ohhhhh, you mean the panties?” Mari said. “That’s an excellent question. Where _did_ they go? They seem to have a life of their own.”

“Search her,” Dia whispered.

“Huh?”

Kanan stepped forward.

“W-w-wait a second! Why would you assume I have them? Chika was the one they were trying to possess!”

“Let’s not kid ourselves,” Kanan said, on a slow approach. She looked more like a shark than she ever did a mermaid. “You’re always going to be the prime suspect.”

“Hold on,” Mari said, hands doing what they could to cover her skirt. “These are not the panties you’re looking for!”

It did not dissuade Dia, who ordered everyone else out of the room. The first-years and second-years were only too happy to comply.

“Now, where were we?” Dia said.

* * *

Mari was proud to say that despite their efforts, nobody found the black lace panties and they were presumed to have burned in the fire.

* * *

[1] TL note: keikaku means plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word of the day was histrionic. Sorry not sorry. Up next, ‘Mari things’ continue.


	22. Mari Things, Part I

_That’s Elephant!_ had one big problem.

They were now nine, which was a respectable number for a pro team – ten would have been ideal – but they didn’t _feel_ like nine. Not only had they yet to have an online training session with the third-years, but tomorrow was their first tournament with this iteration of the team. Yoshiko was at her best like this. The less teamwork the better she worked. But individual performance didn’t matter.

As usual, the group was collected in the cult room. The place was slightly charred and a lot brighter, but none of them felt particularly compelled to acknowledge the other day’s events.

“I do not condone skipping school,” Dia said.

“But we need practice,” Chika argued. “I don’t even know what you look like in-game. What if you’re old or ugly or I mistake you for the enemy?”

“I would hope the former two would be irrelevant,” Dia said. “As for the latter, I understand why you’d find it concerning, but rest assured I would only kill you partially.”

“Partially?” Chika said. “What does that even mean? And what about me hurting you? Isn’t that a concern?”

Dia smiled gently. “Even if we don’t have the opportunity to practice together, we can hold a strategy meeting.”

“Strategy is overrated. It gives the enemy the opportunity to develop counter-strategies.”

“And then we make counter-counter-strategies,” Dia said.

“More?” Chika whined. “What, is it strategies all the way down?”

“No. It’s turtles all the way down, but don’t worry about that,” Dia said. “Someone like you couldn’t possibly comprehend.”

“Turtles?” Chika said, trying nonetheless.

Mari stepped inside the cult room just in time to receive the continuation of Dia’s tirade.

“Mari, you need to participate,” Dia said, spinning around and levelling a finger at her. “The match is tomorrow.”

Mari clicked her tongue. “I’m quite aware that it’s tomorrow, which is exactly why I don’t intend on joining in on the conversation now. Haven’t you heard of a thing called beginner’s luck?”

“We aren’t beginners,” Dia said. “Us third-years are veterans. And we need to make a strong showing, if we’re returning to the scene. How much have you practiced this past year? You had better not embarrass us.”

Yoshiko wasn’t surprised to see Hanamaru and Riko recoil – they certainly had their problems – but seeing Yō’s look of discomfort was concerning. She had played fine, even in their loss. The team couldn’t afford her not to be one hundred percent there.

“Have I  _ ever _ embarrassed you before?” Mari said.

Dia stared.

Mari cleared her throat. “Worry not. I’ve been staying up to date on the game. I even found some good practice partners.”

“That’s good and all, but if you don’t work with us now,” Dia continued, unaware of the discomfort she was causing so many in the room, “you’re going to look like a chicken with its head cut off when it comes to the match.”

“They’re actually pretty terrifying,” Chika said, nodding.

Dia looked at her. “What?”

“Chickens.”

“In what way are they terrifying?”

“I met one, once.”

“Please, go on.”

“Hoping the chicken would drop chicken, I hit it with Panini.”

“I take it you weren’t successful?” Riko said.

“I died.”

“Hold on,” Yō said. “Just how many times have you died to chickens?”

“Three times.”

“Please don’t sound so proud,” Dia said.

“They were good fights,” Chika insisted. “Worthy of being entered into the annals of Oratorio.”

“Actually, it’s pronounced ana-” Mari started to say, but since it was Mari, Dia was already moving in for the kill.

* * *

The battlefield was a tundra. Yohane preferred a burning hell over a frozen one, but they wouldn’t be here long anyway. She conjured a fire to keep warm, and the six of them huddled around it, waiting for the third-years to arrive. _If_ they would arrive. Kanan and Mari had insisted on a lack of communication, as if it was all some big secret. Suffice to say, the group’s tension wasn’t solely because of the cold and pre-battle anticipation.

When Yohane glanced north towards the enemy’s starting position, she winced. The sun’s glare reflecting off the snowy and icy terrain made it hard to see. The damn game was so realistic that snowblindness was a real concern.

“We’re at a disadvantage,” she said.

“Zura?” Hanamaru was awfully close to the fire and even if her clothing didn’t qualify as heavy armour it was heavy enough to make her roundish. A push, and she might roll in. Her outer layer was an orange coat and Chika was looking at her like it was snack time. “How can we be at a disadvantage when the battle hasn’t even started?”

“The sun will be in our eyes when we attack.”

“You’re right.” Yō groaned and looked around at them. “And of course the archer will pay the greatest price for it.”

“My shurikens will be harder to hit,” Ruby said. But everyone knew that she had enough agility to get behind the enemy and use the sun to her advantage.

“Can you destroy it?” Chika asked Yohane.

“The sun?” Yohane challenged it to a staring contest and lost. Again. “Hardly.”

“But, you’re the Great Yohane-”

“It’s the  _ Fallen Angel _ Yohane!”

“-how can something as commonplace as the sun defeat you?”

“It  _ can’t _ defeat me,” Yohane said. “This is a perpetual stalemate. Besides, I would prefer to manipulate it into giving us an advantage.”

“Just like how you manipulated me into joining the team, right?” Ruby said.

“Shuddup.”

Yohane scanned the skies for the moons. Only two were visible, at this time of day, and neither would be eclipsing the sun. Those events were extremely few and far between, but they were equally as powerful as they were rare.

“The third-years are here, zura.”

Chika looked around. “I don’t see them.”

“Talon does.” Hanamaru pointed over her shoulder to a copse of trees over which Talon was circling. “And I think there’s a problem.”

“Why would you think that?”

“They’re killing each other.”

“As good an indication as any,” Yohane commented.

Ruby, quiet as a snowshoe hare, set off in a run towards the forest. Hanamaru hesitated, giving the fire one last look like it ought to be cooking marshmallows, and then followed. Unfortunately, the snow was solid enough for Ruby to run on but Hanamaru sank in with every other step. Everyone else followed close behind, except Yohane. She had a feeling that getting involved any further with the third-years would be problematic.

* * *

Kanan’s entire focus was on the upcoming meeting with the rest of the team. Dia wouldn’t be impressed to learn one of her new teammates was the swordless swordswoman. Multiple times over the past week, Dia had complained about ‘that useless girl’. Kanan was preparing to pacify her while they waited for Mari to log in.

So, yes, it was a sucker punch to see Iram log in beside them.

Dia, bless her heart, tried to logic her way out of it.

“Iram?” she said. “What a coincidence seeing you on the tournament grounds today.”

Iram smiled, and she really was pretty and it was so obvious now that she was Mari but Kanan had never considered it before because who would be so twisted as to abandon her friends and then come back under a different identity to befriend them again?

“No coincidence,” Iram – no, Mari – said, flashing a peace sign. Her voice was different. Undisguised. Familiar and overly friendly. _Saccharine_.

Kanan had something approximating a headache.

Aqours had been everything to the three of them. Their freshman year of high school, they had dedicated themselves so whole-heartedly to that single cause. But the most important thing to Kanan was the health and happiness of her friends. And maybe she was overcorrecting for Mari’s myopic tendencies, but she knew what was best in the long term, and so she and Dia forced Aqours to disband. Mari, as if it was revenge and not their plan all along, left to attend a fancy, rich girls academy in Italy. And that was that.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Yet here Mari was, smiling so sweetly like nothing was wrong.

Kanan searched for the words to express herself.

“Fuck off,” she decided.

Mari recoiled. “Kanan, I did what was easiest for all of us.”

“But not the best.”

“You’d rather I disappeared completely?”

“ _You did_ , to us! All this time, you were with your friends while we were making a new one.”

Dia was mumbling under her breath, which wasn’t a good sign.

“But isn’t this good?” Mari insisted. “It’s like we’ve been practicing together forever! We – we can win this tournament! So let’s just do that, and we can talk afterwards.”

At the very least, Kanan agreed they should delay whatever this conversation was going to be.

“You’re right,” Dia said.

Mari did not relax. She wasn’t stupid.

“We’ve been practicing forever.” Dia smiled like diamonds were forever and Oharas weren’t. “Then, let us continue our practice.”

When she drew her blade, it glowed red like it had been dipped in a forge. She looked at it, emotionless but obviously confused because it had never done anything like that before. Her katakana had been forged over months using a sacred art that nobody fully understood, but if it did do something tropey like feed off the emotions of the wielder, now was the appropriate time for it to glow red.

“You can’t hurt me!” Mari said, turning into a blur and then a unicorn. “I’m endangered!”

“You’re in danger alright,” Kanan muttered.

Dia charged.

Kanan was between them, and could have drawn up a water barrier. But she didn’t. She looked away. Because as conflicted as she felt, it had to be worse for Dia.

“Wait,” Mari said, backpedalling, “I can make this better! I’ll buy you a new necklace! A really, really nice new necklace! A thousand times better than the last one!”

“Money!” Dia shouted, slicing through a tree as Mari ducked. “It’s always money with you. Nothing more, nothing less!”

More trees continued to fall as Dia chased a girl, a unicorn, and a tree through the forest.

Credit to Mari, despite Dia knowing everything about her fighting style, a full minute passed before she was back to being a normal girl on the ground with Dia standing overtop her. Most of her cuts were superficial, and the others were probably illusions to earn sympathy. But Dia was too cold-hearted to fall for that. Mari lay in the cold, her blood mixing with the snow underneath and her chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion of just staying alive.

Though her hands were desperately searching for the out-of-reach staff, she didn’t break eye-contact with Dia.

“Give it up,” Dia said, sheathing her sword in favour of her dagger. “This will only go a short way in correcting your many wrongs.”

“If you’re gonna kill me, I’ll drag you down to my level first.”

Mari gave up reaching for her weapon and instead kicked at Dia’s legs. The fight had been over, but Mari always played dirty. Dia went down, and it immediately became a struggle over the dagger in her hand. They rolled around in the most unsophisticated, childish battle Kanan had ever seen. The end result, not at all surprising, was Dia straddling Mari, pinning her limbs down. Mari struggled a bit even after the end result was determined, but eventually her resistance slowed to huffs and puffs of cold air.

This was it, yet still Kanan didn’t move and didn’t speak. Inaction was necessary.

Dia lifted the dagger with both hands and brought it down. It embedded into the snow next to Mari’s neck. There, Dia left it as she ripped off her own necklace and bunched it in her fist. It wasn’t a flashy thing – there was no gold and the chain was thin – and the single attached diamond was small, unobtrusive, unpolished, impure, opaque, ugly, and Dia wore it all the time.

“What does this even mean to you?” she said, holding the necklace over Mari.

Mari was speechless. Her lips quivered, her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“You always, always, _always_ do your own thing, without caring about how it affects the people around you. And then you think you can buy us off when we react in the most natural ways possible. It’s like you’re not even human. Yet still, _still_ -”

Dia gave up on words and threw the necklace deeper into the forest.

“Ah,” Mari croaked, straining to twist her neck to see where it fell.

Slowly, Dia pulled the dagger out of the snow and brought it to Mari’s neck. Blood beaded on the blade.

It hurt. Even as a third party observer, it really did. Kanan wondered what Dia would do with the real-life copy of the necklace. And implications aside, just seeing the two of them there – Dia sitting on top of Mari yet unable to kill her, and Mari unable to speak even in her own defense – hurt Kanan in a way she could only compare to acute decompression sickness.

“It’s #3!” Chika shouted, rushing onto the scene.

“Oh lord,” Kanan said. “Can we not do this right now?”

Kanan had so far been able to keep the third-year drama away from the rest of the girls. She wasn’t about to fail now. Even without a fire extinguisher, she would cool things down. Worst case scenario, a tsunami would do. This all deserved to be washed away, anyways.

“Number three?” Ruby said, arriving at the same time.

“She killed me!” Chika explained.

Ruby sighed, but didn’t look surprised.

A glyph trap appeared behind Dia.

“I think it’s about time we returned the favour,” Yō said, stepping forward with her bow. She notched an arrow and pointed it at Dia. “Let Mari go.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Chika shouted. “You’re misunderstanding. She didn’t _actually_ kill me. It was a... a mistake! Yes, a mistake on my part.”

“It was?” Yō said, lowering her bow because Mari’s life was just a sad excuse.

“Yes, absolutely, positively my fault. Right, Dia?”

Dia nodded. “Do I look like someone who goes around killing people?”

“No?” Mari spluttered, adjusting her neck away from the blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain to fix up into something publishable so I just cut it in half and bought myself another day. Hurray. Also I probably should’ve said this a long time ago, but if anyone notices grammar mistakes / plot holes / whatever, please let me know. Thanks.


	23. Mari Things, Part II

Under Kanan’s careful guidance, everyone had calmed down. Yō’s anger had been unexpected but quickly tamed by Chika, and Dia had mostly satisfied her bloodthirst in the earlier fight. There would be some more conversations – to put it lightly – after the tournament, but their priority now was the match. And though Dia would never admit it, her constant feuding with Mari was only a sign of how close they were.

They rejoined Yohane in the field, where it was warmer and they had a better view of the battlefield around them.

Though Dia had temporarily forgiven her, Mari didn’t fully get the message and was still talking about it.

“I mean, you could have just reversed my name and figured it out,” Mari said. “Actually, I had hoped you did, but, y’know, just...”

“Rest assured I would have said something,” Dia said, giving Mari a sidelong glance. “But how could we ever recognize you, when you look like that? Those measurements are preposterous.”

Dia was only noticing that now? She must have really been consumed by her anger earlier.

Mari gasped. “How could you say that? I look just like I do in real life!”

“Sorry, Mari,” Kanan said, shaking her head.

“Can you not sound so disappointed?” Mari cried. “Fine! It’s just a teeny tiny augmentation, okay?”

“You’re better than this.”

“Hold on!” Mari said. “This is nowhere near what other people do! How can you judge me so harshly? This world is unfair!”

“You have money,” Dia said. “I’m sure you can find some way to fix all this unfairness.”

“Are – are you asking me to get-”

“And I think that’s enough,” Kanan said. “The match is going to start.”

“I wanna duo with Dia!” Mari said.

“It’s not a MOBA,” Ruby said.

“If you insist.” Mari smiled like Ruby was somehow wrong. “Then we should probably 4 gate.”

Yoshiko hissed. “You dirty Protoss player-”

“Sorry! 6 pool, I mean!”

“That’s better.”

“It’s not an RTS, either,” Ruby said.

Mari took it in stride and pivoted like a Russian ballerina. “Rush B!”

“We don’t have guns,” Ruby said.

“Cyka blyat!”

“Watch your language around my sister!” Dia intervened.

“Oh?” Mari said. “I don’t even know what that means. Do you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“And more importantly, _why_ do you know what it means?”

“I decline to answer your questions.”

“Cyka blyat!” Mari shouted again... and again, and again. And, when she grew bored of it, she said, “I know you know what _harasho_ means.”

“Shut it.”

“Is it the language you find sexy, or the blonde hair? Because, y’know,” Mari said, running a hand dramatically through her own hair.

Dia grit her teeth. “What if it was her role as student council president?”

“Ohhhh!” Mari exclaimed, squealing and doing a little dance. “You admitted it! You find Eli sexy!”

“That’s not-”

“Dia and Eli sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“I’ll kill you,” Dia said, which was no different than a morning greeting to Mari at this point.

“So it’s the responsibility you like, then?” Mari said. “I’ll have you know, I’m the director – no, _**The Director**_ – of an entire school.”

“A failing school. I’m leaving, now.”

“Wait!” Mari shouted. “Wait, where are you going? I’ll learn Russian! I will! Please don’t go! Don’t leave me!”

* * *

“Another one bites the dust!”

It wasn’t a strategy. It couldn’t have been.

“Another one bites the dust!”

It was illogical, obnoxious, idiotic. But it was undeniably effective.

“And another one gone, and another one gone!”

Mari got what she wanted; she, Kanan, and Dia were fighting together as a strike unit.

The game mode was capture the flag. The first years had been assigned to defend their flag, while the rest went on the offensive. It quickly turned into a bloodbath. Among the most reckless was Mari, who was singing and slaying and sowing chaos through the battlefield with her illusions. The original Aqours had found most of their success around the water. Mari would trick their enemy into the water, Kanan would lock them down, and Dia would kill them. Here, however, everything was frozen so it wasn’t an option. And maybe Mari felt obligated to prove herself, because she took the lead. Kanan supported where she could with her water magic, and Dia covered their flanks.

There were a lot of flanks to cover, considering their strategy was to go to the middle of the map and draw the most attention possible while the second years slipped around the edges and grabbed flags. But Mari was doing well as the center of attention, even if she was switching songs every minute. Until she chose the wrong song.

“Fat bottomed girls, you make the rocking world go ‘round!” Mari sang, and she flashed a pair of finger guns back to Dia and suddenly lost all her support and her life.

* * *

Yohane stood beside the Flames of Hell and stared across the tundra as a cold, dry wind battered her skin.

The fire was her warmth and her light – a shining beacon for her allies and an equally vivid target for her enemies. Yes, _enemies_. Because today, those opposing her would stretch across the horizon like the Terracotta Army awakened and angered, and, walking on her land, they would realize their folly. There was nothing for her enemies here – no honour nor pride – nothing but their shattered bodies to decorate the permafrost.

And Yohane wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Visualizing the massacre was enough to bring a faint smile to her lips.

“You look creepy, zura.”

Yohane looked to her side and crinkled her nose. “What’s it to you?”

Hanamaru stepped closer to the fire. “Nothing. I just don’t think daydreaming about whatever you were daydreaming about is good.”

“You’re the one who always says I don’t smile enough.”

“She’s right, Hanamaru,” Ruby said. “If it makes her happy...”

“If you say so, zura.”

And the first years fell silent again.

Silent like the darkest night – okay, no, it was actually time to focus. They hadn’t heard from anyone – friend or foe – for the past ten minutes. Something had happened, and they were cluelessly sitting around defending their flag like they’d been ordered. Ruby would never disobey Dia, and Hanamaru had no spine. Yohane needed to force action.

“They’re dead,” Yohane said.

Ruby squeaked and looked around, like the walking dead were ambushing them. “You mean, my sister?”

“Everyone. The remainders of _That’s Elephant!_ have perished.”

“ _That’s Elephant!_?” Ruby said, ruining the moment like Kurosawas were wont to do. “We’re Aqours.”

Yoshiko hummed. “Their souls have already departed on the long voyage to Hell.”

Amusingly, Ruby didn’t argue the destination.

“How can you know, zura?”

“I can sense it,” Yohane continued. “Butchered corpses: haphazard, scattered like they never mattered. Their blood has stained the snow, blotting the bright ice-scape and bringing a darkness to tame the sun. We must go now, if we are to secure our own futures.”

“But – but she said, defend the flag,” Ruby said.

“From who?” Yohane demanded. “They are too numerous, too persistent. This perpetual life is none to live! We will move on the enemy, take their hope, and free our futures! Only then can we rest with the knowledge that no enemy shall ever dare defy us again.”

She let the fire next to her extinguish.

When she stepped forward, her two companions followed.

* * *

Yeah. Yoshiko got reamed out for abandoning their flag.

* * *

Mistakes aside, _That’s Elephant!_ still won. The third-years had proved immensely valuable.

After their victory, Yoshiko made a few noteworthy observations.

Firstly, Mari continued talking in lyrics for the remainder of the day. It did weird things to the moral and had a measurable increase in in-team violence.

Secondly, Chika was struggling with an identity crisis. Multiple times, Yō had to reassure her that they were competing in a video game and not a singing and dancing competition. Still, Mari’s new lyrical predisposition inspired Chika to sing the original Pokemon theme song. Unfortunately, she didn’t know all the lyrics so mostly she was shouting, “I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was!” over and over again.

Thirdly, _That’s Elephant!_ was becoming a blip on the map.

“People are talking about us online,” Yō said, in the cult room the next day.

“What are they saying?” Ruby said in a way to suggest she really didn’t want to know.

“Are you sure you should be eavesdropping, zura?”

“Obviously everyone is talking about my beauty,” Mari interrupted.

“But it’s the internet,” Riko said. “It can’t be pleasant. Let’s ignore it.”

“Relax,” Yō said. “It’s positive. Mostly. Let’s see, let’s see. ‘Aqours is so strong. Where did they come from?’ ‘Cute and strong girls! I’m definitely an Aqours fan after their last win!’ Huh. A lot of people are mentioning Ruby.”

“Me?” Ruby squeaked.

“Yeah. They’re comparing you to a pink rabbit.”

“But she’s red?” Hanamaru said.

“She’s quick, cute, and small,” Yō said, as she continued reading her phone. “They want her in a suitcase. Mari, isn’t your getup a little gaudy? A lot of people are mentioning it.”

“Can you blame them? People recognize extraordinary.”

“Yes, that’s one way of putting it. Others include: ‘Too many necklaces – we can’t even see her neck.’ ‘How many times is she married?’ ‘More sequins than a wizard’s hat.’ And, ‘Is that a hat for her hat?’”

“You can never have too many hats,” Mari said. “Besides, hat trading is a very serious business. Lucrative, too.”

“Serious or not, that’s what people are saying. You seem to be the recipient of most of the negativity.”

“Not Dia or Kanan?” Mari demanded. “Dia is so boring she can cut rocks with a single look, and Kanan never even transformed into a mermaid in the last battle! How could anyone like those two?”

“It’s not about being liked,” Dia said. “It’s about not being _disliked_. Which is a monumental task for someone such as yourself.”

“It’s not about not being disliked,” Mari mimicked. “It’s about not _losing_. So I see no reason as to why I’d surrender my advantages.”

“Advantages?” Yō said. “There’s no advantage given by cosmetic microtransactions.”

“Oh?” Mari said. “How can you know that?”

“What?”

Yoshiko, against her better judgement, joined in: “Have you seen the source code for the game?”

“No...” Yō said, looking between Mari and Yoshiko. She looked just about convinced. Yoshiko’s words carried more weight than expected.

Mari nodded. “But you _have_ seen my strength.”

“No way,” Chika said, trying to laugh the implication away.

“Way.”

Chika fell quiet and Ruby looked like she did when she thought her sister was nearby and looked around and realized she wasn’t. The only one who didn’t look like she was even considering the possibility was Hanamaru, who had probably read plenty of the subject and seen it thoroughly debunked. Yoshiko wondered if the rest were thinking about getting a job to pay for microtransactions.

“Relax,” Yoshiko said, crossing her arms with a shrug. “ _It’s joke_.”

“Hey!” Mari said. “You can’t steal my tagline!”

“Whatever. Cosmetic microtransactions are a waste of money. Saying otherwise is just more Mari Nonsense™.”

“Ahhh.” Chika’s disbelief disappeared and she leaned back in her chair almost too far. “I was worried for a second, there. I can’t afford microtransactions.”

“Wait, wait, _wait_!” Ruby said. “You can’t just ignore it! Yoshiko, how did you do that?”

There was a pause, as Yoshiko hoped Chika would steamroll the conversation through. But, alas, that did not happen. Chika seemed equally as interested as Ruby.

“I don’t know,” Yoshiko said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You did it without trying?” Ruby said, with awe that made Yoshiko very much uncomfortable.

“Like a real life typo,” Yoshiko tried. “So, anyways, microtransactions-”

“You can’t stutter a trademark!”

“It was a mistake and can we please just forget about it?”

Ruby crossed her arms but said no more. Still, Yoshiko got the feeling she was harbouring some jealousy.

“I was thinking,” Chika said, alarming most everyone in the room. “And I’ve realized our team bonds are really lacking.”

“We haven’t done much together,” Riko conceded. “But given time, I’m sure we’ll get better.”

“No,” Chika said. “We can’t just leave this up to time. We need to be proactive! We need to go on a trip together!”

“The Broken Arrow Bog?” Yoshiko suggested. “It has some new enemies.”

Chika, deaf to reason, said, “The mountains!”

“Which ones?” Yoshiko asked. There weren’t too many of importance. One did come to mind, however. “Oh, are you finally going to get a good sword? I think Mari has some loot rarity multipliers.”

Chika shook her head in an almost apologetic way.

Yoshiko’s self-preservation instinct kicked in and she began to back away towards the door.


	24. Mountain, Part I - Camping

Yoshiko was extremely uncomfortable. The nearest computer was over ten kilometers away, and the distance was increasing rapidly.

“Shoulda brought my laptop,” she said.

“Nonsense, zura.”

“My phone has no reception.”

“Mine doesn’t either.”

“You don’t have one. I bet you like this.”

“I wouldn’t say I was opposed.”

Turns out, mountains existed in real life as well. And that was their destination. They split up into two groups – one driven by Riko’s mother, and the other by Chika’s oldest sister, Shima. So Yoshiko, Hanamaru, Ruby, and Dia were in one vehicle together. As crowded and chaotic as that was, the other vehicle was worse. She shuddered at the thought of being in close proximity to both Chika _and_ Mari for an extended duration. Probably worse than being eaten alive by piranhas.

“It’s gonna rain, I just know it,” Yoshiko said. “It always rains on me. I have the worst luck.”

“You have the eight of us to offset it,” Hanamaru said.

“Or to blame it on,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t need to be your fault if it rains. We can take the blame sometimes, too.”

“That would be fair, but the world isn’t.”

“The forecast said it’s clear all this weekend,” Ruby added. “Don’t worry.”

“Forecast? It’s the future, zura!”

“Yes, Zuramaru, by definition. And, really, camping? Whose stupid idea was this? I’m no hick.” Yoshiko crossed her arms like pouting would turn the car around. “I belong in Tokyo – I can feel my life energy being sapped away.”

“Are you calling me a hick?” Hanamaru said.

“Yes.”

Hanamaru elbowed her. “Camping is good fun, zura.”

“Killing mountain trolls is fun. Tell me: are we going to be finding any trolls on this mountain?”

Hanamaru gave up arguing, which didn’t feel so good. But she did have a point – optimism was necessary for the upcoming days. Especially considering their tent situation, which Chika had insisted on drawing from a hat.

And for the entire drive, Dia didn’t say a word. She seemed pissier than usual. All in all, a recipe for disaster.

* * *

The nine of them were dropped off at the campsite with a lot of bags. They needed all their camping gear and food – thankfully clean water and bathrooms were available at the site. Kanan proved her worth immediately, taking two bags on each shoulder as they trekked through the alternating trees and open spaces. It was the hottest weekend of the year – a heatwave that brought everyone to the beaches – and almost all the campsites were empty. Chika, for reasons undisclosed, insisted on renting out the furthest space, which both meant they were very isolated and everyone had to work up a sweat carrying their camping bags.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Chika said, as they passed a grass clearing with a wooden post labelling it as the fifth site. Only forty more to go.

“I’ve never been camping before,” Riko said. “Are you sure the animals won’t be a problem?”

“If you feed them enough, they’ll go away,” Mari offered.

“Do _not_ feed the animals,” Kanan said. “And we have bear spray; don’t worry, Riko.”

“If the bears bow, can we feed them?” Mari said.

“We’ll feed you to them,” Dia interjected.

“Oh, then they’d for sure return for more! I’m delicious. And, hypothetically – not saying this is an analogy for anything – who would you feed them next? It’d be Kanan, right? Right?”

“It’d have to be Ruby!” Chika said.

Ruby, maybe fearing the answer, distracted with: “Why the mountains?”

It was super effective. Even with her bags, Chika spun around and motioned wildly at her surroundings.

“Because they’re beautiful!” she said. “Aren’t they?”

There was scattered agreement over the next few seconds.

“I would’ve preferred the beach,” Yoshiko said, because they’d at least have wifi there. And, she couldn’t deny it, personalities notwithstanding Aqours had some good eye-candy.

“There’s a river here,” Chika said. “I told you all to bring your swimsuits, right?”

“You did,” Riko said. “But there were also some other things in your list that gave cause for concern.”

“What ever could you mean?”

“I recall one thing, and I quote: item of volume less than zero point two five cubic meters with moderately high personal significance and under two thousand five hundred yen in retail value and not food unless it’s a tangerine.”

Chika was leading the group, so Yoshiko couldn’t see the smile, but she could hear it.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“And there were a couple items that could get you in trouble with law enforcement.” Riko had taken three bags to carry and seemed to be regretting it about now. “Firearms and explosives, off the top of my head.”

“ _Obviously_ I meant water guns and fireworks,” Chika said.

Mari, though she carried only one bag, fell behind the group.

“But you purposefully phrased it in a weird way,” Riko said. “And shovel? Are we burying a corpse?”

“Only if someone dies.”

“ _That’s_ why I brought a shovel?” Kanan said.

“Obviously it’s to dig up the river and improve the swimming hole. And for that _other_ thing.”

“Other thing?” Ruby said.

“But that’s a secret, for now! Hey, can anyone hear the river?”

“You keep talking this river up,” Yō said. “It had better not disappoint.”

“It even has a waterfall! Supposedly it’s a good diving spot.”

Kanan, despite carrying the most weight, was the first to notice Mari missing and backtracked for her. The rest kept moving like they were in a desert and casualties were acceptable because it meant more water for the remainder. In fact, Yoshiko was wondering about withdrawals. Was it possible to have computer withdrawals? How long was the longest she’d gone without internet? Would she forget how to use a mouse and keyboard? Not to mention, it didn’t feel good to go no-contact with her business partner, when their project had progressed past the first stage.

These were the thoughts going through her head when Chika shouted and pointed. They arrived at their site, and had seen nobody in the past five minutes. The place was eerily empty. A good spot to bury a corpse. With sighs of relief, everyone began dropping their luggage. Yoshiko gravitated towards the fire pit. At least fire was something familiar. The flames could consume her attention, if withdrawal became a problem.

(No! Hold on! Nobody here is a pyro!)

Unsurprisingly, nobody wanted to do anything. Even in the shade provided by the trees around them, it was hot.

After a minute of standing around, Kanan and Mari caught up.

“What took you?” Dia asked.

“Nothing,” Mari said. “I saw a shiny bug.”

“A cute one?” Ruby asked.

“Three-quarters cute.”

Ruby looked unsure how to respond. She filled out the last quarter with a smile.

“I’m hungry!” Chika said into the silence.

“Chef Yō at your service,” Yō said, saluting. “And I assign... Yoshiko! as my sous-chef.”

“Huh? Why me?”

“Because you went shopping with me. And you’re standing at the kitchen counter.”

Yoshiko looked doubtfully at the grill over the fire pit. “What’s on the menu?”

“We need to use our most perishable ingredients first,” Yō said. “So it’s store-bought sushi for lunch and burgers for supper.”

It was a good plan. They didn’t need to start the fire midday, with their pre-made lunches. As discussed in the strategy meeting – yes, Chika organized strategy meetings for camping but not Endless tournaments – Yō would be in charge of food. She was the most familiar with it. Yoshiko had gone with her on the shopping trip, to ensure they had sufficient sauces and spices, and thus knew day two would look a lot like noodles and curry.

It took a few attempts to find the right bag, but once that was done they distributed the food. Yoshiko made sure to get the spicy pack. They had a good selection of seating for their meal, between large rocks and tree stumps and the logs set around the fire pit. Yoshiko picked a rock in the shade, isolated from everyone else.

Unfortunately, her meal was interrupted halfway through. Chika sidled up to her.

“Let’s set up our tent,” she whispered.

“Can you not make it sound like a crime?”

“We gotta be first to- Hey! Dia! Stop!”

Indeed, Dia was about to be the first to have her tent up, with Kanan’s help.

“Stop?” Dia said, as she was fitting a pole through the flat tent. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because of Kanan! Look at the poor girl! She’s going to get heat exhaustion.”

“Sorry, Chika,” Kanan said. “Early bird gets the worm.”

“Worm?” Chika looked alarmed. “What’s the worm?”

Kanan frowned. “What’s the worm?” she asked Dia.

“The optimal tent location, of course!”

“No fair! I wanted the best tent location!” Chika cried, setting her sushi aside. “Come on, Yoshiko, let’s go! We can get the penultimate spot!”

This declaration began the tent race, and in record time everyone had their tents set up.

Since there were nine of them, and Chika refused to let anyone sleep alone, Yō, Hanamaru, and Riko were all together in one tent. And – despite Dia’s very valid arguments during the hat drawing – that left Ruby and Mari in the last tent. In all honesty, Yoshiko wasn’t sure how she had fared in the drawing. It was, undeniably, bad luck to get paired with Chika, but Mari could have been worse. Chika was a maelstrom of words and activity, but Mari had a mature, intricately evil method to her madness. As much as Yoshiko was capable, she felt sorry for Ruby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were so many interesting possibilities for tent pairings. I couldn’t decide so, indeed, it was randomly generated.


	25. Mountain, Part II - Swimming

The cicadas buzzed with indifference as Yō, Riko, and Hanamaru went about moving aside rocks and sticks to create a flat area for the tent. Yō was craving water and air-conditioning and at the moment she agreed with Yoshiko; three days at the beach beat setting up a tent in a humid forest drenched in sweat with her shirt clinging to her back.

It became immediate obviously that Riko didn’t know how to set up a tent, but Yō had already expected her to be useless. Hanamaru knew what she was doing, and the three of them still finished second to Dia and Kanan. Yō watched with a grin as Chika and Yoshiko struggled. For the longest time, they thought they were missing a pole, and only after moving the tent did they discover it underneath. They finished last. Chika decided this was because they were nice.

In any case, it was time to find the river.

After moving her bags into the tent, Yō went to grab Chika but discovered Riko had beat her to it.

Those two had been spending a lot of time together, recently. But such was expected, as neighbours. Rather than dwell on it, Yō figured she could go looking alone. She thought she had heard the river on the walk to their campsite, but that might have just been auditory hallucinations.

“Where are you going?” Ruby said, catching her not one step onto the dirt path.

“I wanted to see the river.”

“Were you going to swim?”

“Yeah,” Yō said.

“Really?” Ruby gave her a pointed look.

Yō hadn’t changed yet. This was because of a new, weird problem. It wasn’t fair to call it self-consciousness, because she exercised and took great care of her body and greater care in purchasing her blue bikini, but the idea of being the first to change, knowing it would draw looks from everyone – the third years and, in particular, Chika – made her uncomfortable. If she had continued high diving, she wondered if it would have been a problem there, too.

“I was going to scout, first.”

“I’ll go with,” Ruby said.

“Sure.”

Since Dia’s eyes were always on her younger sister, she joined. Kanan, as her tent partner, followed. Chika, an expert at recognizing ‘the flow,’ joined. In seconds, everyone was decided on going.

* * *

The river was something.

For once, Chika was correct. Yō loved it. At its narrowest, it was still five meters wide. And almost the entire length was deep enough to swim. But the critical difference – what made it superior to the ocean, aside from the isolation – was the temperature. It was glacier-cold. Enough to instantly cool-off from the heatwave. Everyone immediately returned to camp and changed.

When they all made it back to the river, Kanan didn’t stop or slow or even speedup when she saw the river. She walked into it like it wasn’t even there.

Chika, after doing – in her own words – a Chika-certified toe-test, was quick to dunk her head in like a dog.

The new, weird problem caused Yō some shame. Her love for Chika wasn’t limited to Chika’s amazing personality. So, yes, with a twinge in her chest she watched Chika smile and laugh with Riko as water trickled from her hair onto her skin and down her body. Though the shameful part of Yō would have liked Chika to wear a bikini, to show more skin, she still appreciated the yellow one-piece. It suited Chika well.

On the river’s shore, there wasn’t any sand. Instead, they had to deal with rocks. Most everyone found a larger rock to claim with their towel.

Mari, after fishing for compliments on her white bikini, went around offering to put sunscreen on everyone. Wisely, they all refused. Except for Ruby, who saw no issue in it. And when she agreed, Mari lit up like a Christmas tree and suddenly her fingers looked long and spindly and wiggled all tentacle-like. Somehow, she was surprised to be lathering Ruby’s back under seven watchful eyes. No chance for anything. After she moved on, looking a little less lively, Yō sat next to Ruby. She knew Mari could overhear, but it was probably better that way.

“You have a lot of trust in Mari.”

“Of course,” Ruby said. “I’ve known her for so long, why wouldn’t I?”

It wasn’t Yō’s job, but she felt obligated to help her junior. “There’s some people in the world who don’t always have your best interests in mind. A lot, in fact. And, as you grow older, these sorts of people will look to-”

“I get it,” Ruby said. “Dia has warned me about that. _A lot_. But Mari would never! She’s like my aunt.”

It was a critical hit. Mari cried out, clutching herself. “Aunt,” she choked, mortified. “Aunt... is – is that how you truly see me?”

“What’s wrong?” Ruby said.

And in the end, advising Ruby ended up worse than if she had stayed silent, because Ruby went to check on Mari and sat beside her and Mari flung her arm around Ruby like the slimy thing she was. Apparently, Dia’s ice-cold stare was offset by the sun, because Mari was oblivious.

Because the river was everything Chika claimed it to be and more, Yō set off in search of the waterfall. A quick guess led in her the upstream direction. With Ruby tied up, nobody noticed her leaving. In minutes, she was alone on the river. The rocks continued to be annoying to navigate. They came in all sizes and some were getting splashed by the river which made them slippery. Eventually, she moved away from the water and found a dirt path on the edge of the forest.

Chika had lied about one thing. That, Yō knew to be the truth. Chika’s expression, when she dismissed recovering Panini, had a hint of sadness. Inside, Chika was screaming no. She was distraught. Though it had never been verbally acknowledged, Yō knew Panini meant more. It wasn’t just a joke weapon. It had some history. There was something about it.

The sacrifice Chika made, to prioritize Aqours, was just that. A sacrifice. And someone as great as Chika shouldn’t have to make a sacrifice like that. Yō wouldn’t let it go.

Yō couldn’t let it go. With or without Chika’s help, she would retrieve Panini. She would venture beyond, into the true Endless world, and fight nature’s magic and those monsters hidden within, and then she would find the dragon and slay it. Osmond’s Ruby was irrelevant. Its power was meaningless to her. She would fight the world for Panini. For Chika. And then, and only then, could she do it: only then could she return Chika her sword and feel worthy enough to say, ‘I love you.’

But before all that, Yō needed to get better. She needed to change classes – become someone useful – and improve, and improve, and _improve_. Maybe it was a long road in front of her, but she had to try, because Chika was trying her damnedest too.

They arrived at the waterfall. Yes, _they_. Yō turned to see someone had followed her.

“You don’t need to look at me so distrustfully,” Mari said. “If I was after either of them, it would be the older sister.”

“ _Are_ you after her?”

“Who?”

“Dia.”

“It depends.”

Yō had, recently, wanted to talk with someone about it, but Mari was a terrible idea. Still, she looked around to confirm they were alone. “When I say ‘after’ her... I mean...”

“Hug? Kiss?” Mari gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Hold hands?”

“Stuff like that, yeah.”

“It’s only natural,” Mari said.

“Even with another girl?”

“Nothing more pure.”

“Right,” Yō said, still with doubts.

She needed to escape before she said something she regretted.

The waterfall wasn’t too loud, compared to some she’d seen. It was maybe thrice her height and there was a good jumping rock at the top. She entered the turbulence immediately beneath the waterfall. Mari didn’t follow.

When it became apparent that the water was deeper than her, she took a breath and dove under.

The incessant thundering in her ears helped clear out her thoughts. She’d been feeling anxious lately, and not just because of Chika. Their tournament defeat and the third years joining Aqours and then their dominant tournament victory had things changing so quickly. Sure, it had all been brought together by Chika, but things were growing beyond that now. The group had so many strong personalities. There was even discussion online about them; their play-style was so unique it garnered interest. Yō wondered if, as they ironed things out, they would become another bland competitive team, or if their strong personalities would prevent such a thing from happening.

In manga, when the training arc came around the protagonist would meditate under a waterfall. He would leave a stronger man, capable of breaking rocks with his fist. Yō wished it were that easy. When she surfaced, she felt no stronger.

Only, maybe, a little clearer in the head.

“Sheesh,” Mari said. She had waded into the river up to her knees. “Just how long can you hold your breath?”

“I have some experience,” Yō said. “There’s no need to worry about me.”

“Worry? Nonsense. I was just wondering if I needed to grab the shovel.”

“You know if any of us die out here, you’ll be the number one suspect.”

“I know,” Mari said. “I’m always number one, no matter the reason.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure you understood. I’m swimming down the river now. No need to follow me.”

Mari saw her off before returning to the forest path.

The current would eventually bring her down to the others. There was no rush – though Chika had some camping activities planned she didn’t have enough to keep them occupied for the entirety of the two nights and three days. So Yō closed her eyes, floated on her back, and let the river bring her along. There was something intimately satisfying about it. Letting the river take responsibility for her destination and knowing it couldn’t go wrong. This path was carved out over thousands of years of erosion. It was not new. It was tried and true. And that was conducive to decision making.

A few times, she bumped into rocks and it jolted her because she was finding that space between consciousness and the zombie-like state Chika always entered in class. In Yō’s opinion, floating down rivers was better meditation than sitting under a waterfall or ignoring teachers.

After some time without a rocky disturbance, she once again entered that state of low-awareness. There, she was in front of a large, cheering crowd and the energy was exhilarating, but she couldn’t tell if she was playing Endless, high diving, or sky diving. What were they all there for? What did they want from her? The next thing she bumped into was softer than rock. Without rolling over or opening her eyes, she felt around. It wasn’t furry, so she was safely able to rule out a fishing grizzly bear. But it was kinda jiggly and nice – she could get a good handful of them and oh crap.

“Geh!” She floundered to roll over and stand up. The water went up to chest level and there was Chika and, yes, she had just groped Chika chest. And when she tried to back out of Chika’s personal space, the current resisted like it could read her mind.

“Off-limits,” Chika said, making an X with her arms.

“Sorry-” She tried to bow, but only dunked her head into the water, and she wondered if she should just keep it there to hide her blush and drown. Realizing how stupid she looked was the only reason she lifted her head again.

“You can’t go any further,” Chika was saying. “Dia’s fishing downstream.”

Wait – that’s what the X was about? Then... Chika wasn’t off-limits? No – stop thinking about that. This isn’t hard. You’ve had years of training in idle conversation with your best friend. Be normal! But Chika didn’t like normal. Be responsible, then!

Mostly to stop looking at Chika, Yō looked down the river. Indeed, Dia was there holding a fishing rod on a larger rock at the bend a little ways downstream. It looked like she had a net and cooler. Like a real old man. Grumpy, too.

“Can’t have you getting fished up by her,” Chika said.

For multiple reasons, Yō shuddered.

“Everyone else?” Yō asked.

“Ruby’s looking for a three-quarters cute bug. She has some doubts. Hanamaru is pretending to help her. Riko was talking to Dia – and then I think she went back to camp to grab something. Yoshiko is trying to fight a tree she keeps calling Yggdrasil. Oh, and Kanan kinda went underwater and we haven’t seen her since.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Yoshiko won’t lose.”

“That’s not who-”

“I’m stuck!” Yoshiko cried out from a tree branch above.

Yō sighed. “Never mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shovel will be MVP of this arc.


	26. Mountain, Part III - Cheating

There wasn’t much they could do for Yoshiko. She had gotten to a flimsy upper branch and was sitting as close to the tree’s trunk as possible. If she wasn’t such a light girl she’d have been on the ground by now.

“Why’d you climb it?” Yō asked.

“She was channeling her inner villainess,” Chika said.

“I’m not _that_ stupid,” Yoshiko said. “And it was all under control until the branch below me broke.”

Yō took a step back to examine the situation. The tree was close enough to the river, but the river wasn’t deep enough. Jumping wasn’t a solution.

“Jump!” Chika said.

“Don’t,” Yō advised.

“Oh,” Chika said to her in a whisper. “Did you want to place bets first?”

Yō did not want to, and told her as much. Chika insisted, because apparently she really liked the idea, but there was a certain level of respect Yō had to maintain for her junior. Not to mention she could still remember the outcome of her last bet with Chika.

Under their guidance – pointing out knots and branches – Yoshiko was athletic enough to hug the tree and climb halfway down before falling the rest of the way. Once safely on the ground, she glared up at the tree like a cat wronged.

“Don’t worry, Yoshiko,” Chika said. “You’ll get it next time!”

“It’s a tree,” Yoshiko said.

“That’s why I’m betting on you!”

Lies.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, but I recommend never to be so foolish. If this world can find a way to betray me, it will.”

The three of them moved along the river until they were closer to the fishing hole and in the shade. There, Yō relaxed. And regretted it. Two arms wrapped around her from behind, and she hoped it would be a surprise hug but instead the hands moved upwards.

“Ohh,” Mari drawled, pressing up against her. “Nice. Very nice indeed. Dia never stood a chance.”

The good thing about the shovel was that it could be used as the murder weapon _and_ to bury the corpse. Efficient.

Shaking Mari off and channelling her embarrassment into anger, she said, “Where’s the shovel?”

“Whoa, slow down there, handsome. It’s joke!”

Yō bit back a retort mainly because she couldn’t come up with one good enough. Mari would counter anything she had with ease.

“Besides,” Mari said, “I saw you do the same to Chika.”

“It was an accident!”

“And she’s allowed to do that,” Chika said.

“Ehhh?”

“She’s my best friend.”

“Oh,” Mari said, a dangerous smile on her face, “so you’re giving me permission to grope Dia?”

“She’s not,” Dia shouted from her fishing hole.

“No, Dia’s right. You can’t grope her – she’s already taken. You can have Kanan.”

Mari shrugged like she already did.

“Taken? By who?” Ruby said. She’d wandered over with Hanamaru.

“No need to be so bashful-”

“Hold on,” Ruby said, again showing her penchant for no nonsense. “Where’s Kanan?”

The group looked around and counted their members. It was almost like nine was too many to keep track of.

“And so the first has been claimed by Heaven’s Water,” Yoshiko intoned.

Riko arrived with the shovel.

“Just in time,” Mari said. “Here, gimme that. I think she’d like to be buried next to the water – she’s a watery girl, right? Always wet when I’m around her.”

“Buried?” Riko said, eyes wide.

“The prophecy foretells of the next to perish in the Flames of Hell.”

Riko relaxed a little, like prophecies were a joke, and handed the shovel over to Mari, who found soft dirt nearby and began digging. She was sweating in seconds and tried to organize a rotation but failed like a unicorn would recruiting leprechauns to bury a mermaid. In a bid to escape work, Chika grabbed Riko’s hand and pulled her towards the river, saying something about swimming and, in return being asked something about someone already forgotten.

Standing closest to Yō was Hanamaru. They hadn’t talked much. As far as Yō knew, Hanamaru and her weren’t all unalike. They had both joined because of their friends.

“You’re the assistant librarian?” Yō said, as they watched Mari dig.

“That’s right, zura.”

“Did you bring any books with you here?”

“One,” Hanamaru said. “Because of Chika’s list.”

“Ah. The item of volume less than zero point two five cubic meters with moderately high personal significance and under two thousand five hundred yen in retail value and not food unless it’s a tangerine?” It had been phrased weirdly, and now that she thought about it, she wasn’t entirely sure it had been Chika’s request in the first place. Did one of her sisters have something to do with it? “When she says ‘retail value’ she means expendable. It’s not going to survive.”

“So long as she doesn’t burn it, zura.”

“That’s an oddly specific concern.”

“It’s _Fahrenheit 451_.”

“No worries, then.” Yō saluted. “I’m in charge of the cooking, so I’ll keep her away from the fire.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. And, this might be coming a little late, but I’m sorry our school library isn’t much.”

“Eh? Not at all. I love it, zura.”

“But the cathedral library has everything you could need, and more.”

“But it’s all digital. The sights and sounds and smells can’t compare to a real library.”

The sights and sounds, Yō had thought, were pretty accurate. But that was the difference between a casual library goer and an expert, she suspected. The smell, though, maybe she could understand. It was like walking down a road on a rainy day in the capital. The raindrops were painstakingly animated to emulate real life, but there was nothing a game could do to bring in the petrichor of the rain and dirt and rock. The scent of survival was a comfort reserved only for real life.

“And the feeling of the paper between your fingers,” Hanamaru continued. “I found a couple old books in the library that were made with _washi_. To say it’s not like other books is unfair. The paper is on a whole new level-”

“We found her!” Chika said, returning with Riko and Kanan in tow.

“I was looking for gold,” Kanan said by way of explanation.

“I’m already here,” Mari said, tossing the shovel aside in disappointment.

“Oh, is this hole for me?” Kanan said, hopping into the half dug pit. “Thank you. I feel so much safer here.”

“Go screw yourself.”

“What’s got you upset?”

“This is hard work! The shovel probably gave me blisters. And it’s hot and I’m all sweaty and nobody would help me!”

True to her word, she was covered in a sheen of sweat. Maybe Yō should have insisted they all help her. Or Chika, at least, should have helped.

Kanan looked around the group. “Just to be sure – it’s because you all didn’t believe I was dead, right?”

“Of course,” Chika said. “But, uh, when you _do_ die, I was thinking, you wouldn’t want your Endless account to go to waste. Do you have your will set up in-game?”

“I was a minor when I created my account, so it defaulted to my parents.”

“Maybe you should update it,” Mari said, catching the drift. “The older generation doesn’t play as much. Would your parents even benefit from it? They probably don’t care about Endless. It would have much more value to me.”

“She outright said it, zura.”

“Of course,” Mari preened.

Until Kanan threw dirt at her. Most of it was muddy from the nearby river and it stuck to Mari’s thigh.

“That’s awfully brave of you,” Mari said, “when I have the high ground.”

“I’m a brave woman.”

“I’ll make you eat those words.”

“I believe _you_ already ate ‘I’ll make you eat those words’ many times before.”

Mari, high on her position of power, pulled something out of – Yō decided it was a magic trick, because with that bikini there was really nowhere she could have been stashing it. The item was harmless. At a glance, it seemed to be some sort of... Hawaiian hula-hoop bobblehead doll. It was a caricature of a dark-skinned girl with a flower lei and grass skirt.

Kanan froze. “Why do you have Alana?” she said.

“Oh, she has a name, does she?” Mari set the bobbing in motion. “Who is she to you?”

“Is this the real reason you were mad at me?”

“Of course! I don’t care about shedding blood and sweat, if it’s for you! I’d dig a thousand holes for you. But then who do I find when I look in your bag?”

“Don’t bring her into this! She’s done nothing to you!”

The bobbing intensified.

“Hold on! Hold on! Don’t be unreasonable, Mari. I’m sure we can all talk this out like responsible, mature adults.”

“Talk? Yes, let’s talk. How did you meet her? How long has this been going on?”

“I – it’s not been that long. I swear. She just – one day, I was shopping – and there she was, just smiling at me. And – and then she nodded her head. That’s it. Just a single nod. I – I couldn’t resist. So I took her home.”

Mari’s fingers drifted over to Alana’s neck. “Enough. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“She – she never expected anything out of me. She was easy-going, always so happy. I felt at peace with her. It was what I wanted. So I took her to bed and, amidst the flowers and rustling of her skirt, we made-”

“Enough!” Mari shouted. Her fingers tightened around Alana’s neck and pulled.

_Pop!_

Ruby gasped.

Kanan let out a little whimper.

Mari’s mouth turned O-shaped. Dangling in her hands at her sides, a head and a body. A murder, in broad daylight.

“ _You_...” Kanan said.

“... It’s joke?”

“I’ll remember to put that on your tombstone.”

Amazingly, Mari did nothing in response. Well, she hesitated first, and then she got oddly still. Like a wild animal that sensed danger.

Kanan brought a foot out of the hole and, leaning forward, looked up with a crooked, deranged smile. Yes, she was below Mari physically, but in every other sense was not. There was a three-second pause, and then Mari bolted. Like gravity rotated, Kanan dove after her.

“This isn’t fair,” Mari cried, going straight for the river certainly knowing it couldn’t save her.

They disappeared under the water with a splash.

Everyone else took their time to accept what had just transpired. It didn’t take that long, though; Aqours was getting good at coming to terms with these sorts of things. When Riko finally moved to retrieve the shovel, it was like breaking a trance.

“Why did you bring the shovel in the first place?” Ruby said.

“Dia wanted it.”

“Dia, at the river, with a shovel!” Chika proclaimed like she just won something.

“I’ll bring it to her,” Ruby volunteered.

Chika nodded in approval. “You two have fun!” ****


	27. Mountain, Part IV - Missing

Climbing trees was fun, okay? It was about the best entertainment she could find in real life, aside from maybe people watching, and that was usually hit or miss and done in a tree anyways.

“Could you stop looking at the tree?” Riko said. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“It’s the tree that’s looking at me,” Yoshiko corrected.

“Chika already told me. I don’t think you should be climbing any more. It’s dangerous. You could hurt yourself.”

“But I haven’t, yet.” And, thanks Chika, for being so quick to share the story. “So continue to trust in my abilities, little demon.”

“Chika was asking for you.”

“I think she thinks we’re supposed to be all buddy-buddy because we’re sharing a tent.”

“That’s not a problem, is it?” Riko said like she actually believed it. “Now let’s go to the swimming hole and find her.”

“Fine.”

Yoshiko knew she was being childish, but it hurt her ego to lose to a tree. She stomped off after Riko, but slowed significantly at the water’s edge. Was she in heaven or hell? Or just lurking on the edges of both? In any case, Aqours was full of beautiful girls. The one who caught her eye this time was Dia, who was standing tall on a rock under the sun, fishing rod in hand and straw hat on her head. She was stoic and regal. Straw hats had always enhanced the beauty of 2D girls, so Yoshiko wasn’t surprised to find it true with the third dimension as well.

Kanan returned, alone, from somewhere upstream.

“Where’s Mari?” Yō said.

“Who?” Kanan said.

“Should we be worried?”

“Do you need the shovel?” Chika offered.

Kanan groaned. “Quit stressing out. Let’s, all eight of us, have a fun camping trip, yeah?”

Well, Yoshiko wouldn’t cry over the new number. It was a nice, even number, and a power of two on top of that. The others, however, seemed to do the opposite of Kanan’s advice. Until she revealed that she’d brought a beach ball. Then, everyone forgot about their problems. It was good fun. Almost enough to trick Yoshiko into believing she had f-words.

Ruby wandered over a while later. Rather than join, however, she stood awkwardly on the rocks at the sideline.

“Dia wants to know if you can cook trout,” she said to Yō.

“Sure, I’ve done it before. Not recently, but it can’t be that hard. Does Dia not know how?”

“Of course she knows,” Ruby said, almost indignant in her sister’s defense. “She can do anything!”

And then she left. But not for long. In less than a minute, Ruby was back.

“Dead,” she said, a distant expression on her face. “Murdered. It – it happened so quick... there was nothing I could do.”

Yoshiko checked over her shoulder to confirm. Dia was just fine. She was working on something in the mini cooler. A fish, most likely. But it was odd of her to kill it in front of Ruby. Was it an accident? Unlikely. Dia didn’t make many mistakes. Besides, from a distance, she didn’t look concerned about the murder.

“It’s the circle of death,” Yoshiko said.

“Don’t you mean life?” Chika asked.

“No,” Riko said. “Yohane cut the endless knot, so life is no longer a circle.”

Yoshiko was inordinately pleased.

This conversation, however, did nothing to console Ruby. Hanamaru tried, but by the time she had made it out of the water, Ruby had already wandered off.

* * *

As evening approached, the eight of them returned to their campsite.

They lazed around and talked; the purpose of this trip, after all, was to improve team bonding.

“Okay, everyone,” Yō said eventually. “Time to collect wood. Only the dead stuff. We bought some firewood from the camp admin so we only need small stuff for tinder.”

Yoshiko watched as they all wandered off in different directions. Notably, Ruby did not go with Hanamaru. And Chika, surprisingly, went with Kanan. Well, maybe not all that surprising, since they were childhood f-words.

“Not going to join them?” Yō said.

“I’m cooking, aren’t I?”

“Glad you remembered.”

Yoshiko shrugged. “I’d rather cook than collect. It’s hard to trust some of them around fire.”

Centered around the campfire were four large logs laid lengthwise to act as benches. Yoshiko sat at one of them and waited. And fidgeted, and, after a bit:

“Actually,” she said, feeling almost nauseous, “I think I will go grab some firewood. Can you watch the fire?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks. I’m off, then.”

Yō saluted. “Be careful!”

The forest was icky and the sun was setting. It was the time of day where jumping in the river meant no sunlight when drying off, but not jumping in meant feeling sweaty for the rest of the day. Summer was punishing her for not staying indoors and fiddling with old broken computers and new not-fun games.

Yoshiko went in the direction Hanamaru had taken. If it had been a little darker, she might have tried for a surprise attack to break the ice. But in actuality, maybe she needed to be serious. She’d already decided she wouldn’t do any Yohane stuff. This was to be a human-to-human interaction.

Hanamaru had a bundle of sticks in her arm. She was struggling to add more to the pile without dropping two for every one she collected. This didn’t appear to bother her, though. The forest was second only to the library. She looked like a forest faerie, moving slothfully about her abode like Yoshiko did on weekends in her pajamas at home with a spoon and a pail of chocolate ice-cream and an alarming lack of guilt and exercise.

Alas, branches were slightly healthier.

“I’ll help,” Yoshiko said.

“Oh, Yoshiko.” Hanamaru looked up, spilling a few sticks in the process. “Thank you, zura.”

For a wordless while, Yoshiko added to the pile while Hanamaru held still.

“I’m not the right person,” Yoshiko said, after feeling a little less ready for this conversation than she did a day ago. “But this is maybe a better place and time. You’re not fat. You’re not ugly. You don’t smell – well, actually, you do, but it’s kinda nice.”

“Then...?”

“I don’t rely on you, so I can’t say. But it seems like Ruby doesn’t rely on you anymore, either. It’s nothing about whether you’re dependable or not – it’s just, she’s changing, I guess? She’s lived in the shadow of her older sister all her life. She has so many people to help her. Maybe she’s sick of it? I dunno.”

The pile of sticks in Hanamaru’s arms was too full to add any more. Still, Yoshiko did. Balancing them and intertwining them like a bird’s nest. Hanamaru was standing still enough that if Yoshiko had left, a bird would have settled in within minutes.

“I don’t really get her, either,” Yoshiko continued. “In fact, I orchestrated her meeting with Sarah.”

“You did, zura?”

This time, Hanamaru did move. And, hey, Zuramaru, try not to drop the sticks, yeah? Maybe Yoshiko was relying on her more than she admitted, even if it was for the small things.

“I thought it would be nice – yeah, _I know_ – to let her meet her idol,” Yoshiko continued. “Just shows how little I understand. I don’t think anyone has noticed – they probably can’t, because they don’t know any better – but Ruby is taking lessons from Sarah, or something of the likes. I can see it in our practices and battles. Ruby is changing. And I don’t just mean in-game skill and style. She’s different. And, um, I guess that’s my point. In game, in real life, whatever it is, we’re all changing. My gut instinct is to say ‘give her some space,’ but that might be completely wrong. I have no idea. Maybe you need to be there even more for her, and just be patient. Whatever the right answer is, don’t worry: you can’t be expected to know it. That wouldn’t be fun – I mean, fair – it just wouldn’t be fair.

“Anyways, I’m sorry for all this wishy-washy talk. Just keep doing your best, whatever that ends up looking like.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, Zuramaru.”

They returned before everyone else. This was of some concern, because there were only a few minutes of light left. Would their numbers decrease further? Please be Chika, please be Chika, Yoshiko thought. With those two out of the way, the group could pretend to be sane. Not to mention she would get her own tent to sleep in.

Horror movie or not, it was a smart idea to get the fire going. With Hanamaru’s armful of kindling dropped nearby, Yoshiko began building a miniature funeral pyre. Those always burned best.

“Ready to start, Yoshiko?” Yō said.

“I’m always ready. The question is if the flames of purgatory are.”

“That’s up to you,” Yō said, handing her a lighter.

Yoshiko looked at it doubtfully. A mortal invention. Better: she pulled the flint and steel out of her pocket and set to work. A minute later, after the most gentle of coaxings, the pyre was smoking. This put Yoshiko in a particularly good mood. Not botching the talk with Hanamaru, Chika potentially eaten by a bear, and a nice, natural fire burning in front of her. Life was good.

Returning the flint and steel to her pocket, her fingers bumped against something else. She pulled it out. A small glass bottle of hot sauce for the burgers. She’d almost forgotten about it, with her other plan taking precedence.

Holding the bottle up to the light of the growing fire, she grinned. It looked like magma.

Indeed, life was good.

Until Ruby plucked the bottle out of her hand.

“What’s this?” she said, sounding like she already knew.

“Just flavouring,” Yoshiko said. “No need to read the small print.”

“Ultra-extra garlicky flames-of-Hell hot sauce.”

“I said ‘no need,’ didn’t I?”

“Confiscated.”

Ruby wasn’t a fun girl.

Yoshiko huffed.

“I’m looking forward to the burgers,” Ruby said with indifference before taking a seat next to Hanamaru on a log bench on the other side of the fire. They were talking and Hanamaru was fiddling with a flashlight – it probably had more than one button. Night had finally fallen. As far as the hottest weekend of the year could, it cooled off.

The wind changed directions – a nice breeze for most of them – and Yoshiko received a face full of smoke. Holding her breath, she pulled back and circled around the fire. The pillar of smoke followed her. The burning pyre beckoned her, but she was no little witch.

Over the next couple minutes the rest of the group returned, minus one. Yoshiko celebrated internally.

“Kanan, where’s Chika?” Yō asked.

“Not sure,” Kanan said. “She said she wanted to get more sticks before coming back. Don’t worry – she has her phone for light. I’m sure she’ll show up soon.”

After awhile, they lost faith in soon. Now there were seven. Seven was odd, but a Mersenne number. Yoshiko was quite happy with this development.

“The fire’s getting large,” Yō said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Yes, good job, but we need more water.”

They already had one full bucket nearby, but Yō was right. They didn’t want to burn the whole forest down if an accident happened.

“I’ll go get it,” Ruby said.

“Thanks, Ruby. There are buckets available next to the water tap.”

Ruby stood up to leave. The water was available at roughly the center of the camping area, where all sites could access it easily. They had passed it when carrying all their camping gear earlier that day – it was a good five minute walk.

“Want some company?” Kanan said.

“Sure!”

The two of them left under Dia’s suspicious eyes. If she’d been quicker, she might have volunteered to accompany her sister.

The rest of them sat around the fire in silence for a short bit. Yoshiko fiddled with the fire with a stick and added more fuel to it and thought about civilization and technology and how shitty it all was and how much she missed it.

“Can you watch the fire alone?” Yō said. “I’m going to look for Chika. She’s taking way too long.”

Yoshiko stared intently at her, searching for a second truth, but couldn’t see any. She nodded. It would all need to come clear soon enough, she figured. The coals would be perfect for cooking in forty-five minutes, after the fire reached its peak intensity and began its denouement. As judged by her mother, Yoshiko didn’t know fuck all about following recipes and mixing ingredients in the kitchen, but barbecue was no problem for her. She knew how to burn the optimal charcoal and cook meat to perfection.

“Yeah, I got it,” Yoshiko said. “No problem.”

Alone, Yō wandered into the forest.

So it goes.

* * *

Talking with Hanamaru would be awkward.

Dia, despite a calm afternoon of fishing, looked stressed. And it wasn’t just since Ruby left – she had been like that all day. If Yoshiko had to guess, Dia didn’t like camping. Or the company. Definitely not someone to engage with, at the moment.

And that left only Riko. Yoshiko judiciously avoided Endless Oratorio and music; she didn’t want to butcher a conversation after acing the one with Hanamaru. So the safest – and consequently most boring – topic was school. Their favourite and least favourite subjects and the teachers, the best lunches and eating spots, and the impending closure and the rumours therein. Usually, the most interest Yoshiko had in others was making up their backstories while people watching. But she was quite happy to learn about Riko.

It was during this conversation that Yoshiko noted something fundamental shifting within the world’s undercarriage. Something was afoot. The question was: what?

The serial killer returned alone with a bucket of water, her tall shadow flickering against the trees like Death dogged on finishing his job. Alas, it seemed God would turn a blind eye on the girls tonight.

“Ruby’s not with you?” Dia said immediately.

“She said she wanted to use the bathroom, since we were walking right by them. She shouldn’t be far behind me.”

“And you didn’t wait for her?”

“No need to get angry. I offered. Multiple times. You have to accept that she’s growing up, Dia.”

“I don’t have to do anything. Except go get her. She shouldn’t be wandering around in the dark.”

“No,” Hanamaru said, surprising everyone. “I mean, I needed to go to the bathroom anyways, zura.”

“There you have it,” the serial killer said. “Hanamaru will return with her. Now sit back down.”

She spoke with such finality, like tying someone to a concrete block and dumping them out in the ocean. Resistance was futile. Dia fell back onto the log. The scowl on her face was a permanent feature by now. But she said nothing.

And if Hanamaru had been worrying about being unreliable, well, that Dia could trust her should have been reassurance enough. Hanamaru took to the dirt path and was out of sight in a minute.

The serial killer surveyed the small group remaining. Yoshiko, Dia, and Riko.

“Yoshiko, Riko, I need to talk to you two in private, please.”

Here it was. All this time, Yoshiko had been worrying about Hanamaru being yandere, but the real problem lurked underneath – the quiet killer, pulling people into the water and drowning them without so much as making a splash. How far below the ocean was hell? Yoshiko wondered. And which one of them was leaking?

“Can it wait?” Riko said, too genre-savvy.

Now, Yoshiko respected intelligence, but this was too exciting to pass up. “Obviously not,” she said. “Can’t you read the mood? It’s important. Dia, the fire is yours.”

The three of them departed. But Riko stopped at the edge of the campsite, where the fire and Dia were still visible.

“Here is good enough, right?” she whispered.

“It’s a _very_ private matter,” the serial killer said.

Yoshiko nodded. “We understand.”

Riko still didn’t, so Yoshiko had to grab her arm to pull her deeper into the forest. The serial killer led with the light on her phone. Soon, Riko no longer needed to be pulled – she was now gripped onto Yoshiko’s arm, and Yoshiko quite liked it. Having a beautiful girl cling to her was something she could only dream of, and she wished this were a test of courage or, at least, not the end of the line for the both of them.

“We’ve come far enough,” the serial killer said, stopping in the middle of the forest.

Her phone went dark. Unyielding night descended on the trio. Yoshiko blinked a few times, her eyes quickly adjusting. It was comforting. More to die under the moon than the sun. Riko made a sound like a mouse and was now holding Yoshiko’s arm a little too tightly.

Ideally, they’d hug, see the glint of the shovel rise above them in the moonlight, and then it would all be over.

“I wish this hadn’t happened,” the serial killer said. “I’m sorry.”


	28. Mountain, Part V - Lies

Yoshiko woke up sweating. She looked around the tent and breathed a sigh of relief. It had all been a dream. A terrible, terrible dream.

_Just kidding_. They were still somewhere in the forest awaiting their deaths. This particular area, only a few minutes away from the collection of campsites, was a copse of cypress trees. Their branches jutted out only above head level, which gave the place an unsettling feeling at night: they could be watched from far away without ever knowing. A warm wind blew past the trees and they creaked like kids whispering rumours in elementary school and, in all honesty, that was the scariest part of it all. Yoshiko hated rumours because they were most often about her and not very good.

Yet with Riko at her side, Yoshiko felt oddly calm.

“I wish this hadn’t happened,” Kanan said. “I’m sorry. My phone’s run out of battery.”

“I’ve got mine on me,” Yoshiko said, providing them new light.

Riko stopped holding onto her, and she was tempted to run out of battery, too. But, alas, all good things must come to an end. Whether that be cute girls clinging or life itself.

“Anyways, I should explain what’s going on,” Kanan said. “Do you know where the camp admin’s site is – near the water tap?”

“I remember passing it,” Riko said.

Yoshiko nodded. It was one of the few tents set up in the whole area.

“I’ve sent everyone there.”

“In... in body bags?” Yoshiko said.

“Why do you sound hopeful?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“No, not in body bags,” Kanan said. “I know how it looks, but it’s important that I did it this way.”

“What do you mean?” Riko said. “What is everyone doing at the admin’s site?”

“Playing old maid, last I checked. Listen, you two go join them, or do whatever – I need ten minutes alone with Dia.”

“That’s it?” Yoshiko said.

“It’s important. Chika wanted us to bond, after all.”

Was she saying that because the fishing had been an isolated activity? Well, there wasn’t any danger in granting this sort of request; it was Kanan asking – not Mari.

Riko and Yoshiko exchanged a look and then agreed. Kanan thanked them and, after reassuring them she could find her way back in the dark, left.

“My heart is still racing,” Riko said.

“I’m a little disappointed.”

When Riko looked at her questioningly, she shrugged.

It was a new lease on life, but Yoshiko knew the truth: her real death, however and whenever it came about, wouldn’t be nearly as interesting. This totally would have scored front-page of the newspaper. At least she still had Yohane’s fate to look forward to. That would be headline-worthy, in one way or another.

Yoshiko checked her phone’s battery. Eighty percent. Why hadn’t she forgotten to put it on airplane mode after leaving cell reception? And she kinda wanted to do the ‘whatever’ that Kanan suggested. But it was too awkward to say: ‘Hey, let’s wander around in the dark aimlessly for a bit rather than join the rest of  _That’s Elephant!_ .’

“You have your phone?” Yoshiko asked.

Riko shook her head. “It’s back at camp.”

Damn. She couldn’t very well abandon Riko without a light.

“Is something wrong?” Riko said.

“No. Let’s go join the others, then.”

Together, they set off back towards the campsites. Yoshiko made sure to walk slow, under the guise of not wanting to trip on roots and rocks.

“You’re not afraid of the dark?” Riko asked after a minute.

“Not particularly.”

“How?”

_How?_ What kind of question was that? She could just as easily ask how Riko was so good at piano. There may have been no inherent good in the world, but people had inherent talents and fears and likes.

Still, Yoshiko found herself saying, “I remember the first time I stayed up until midnight. I was hiding in my room in my bed under my covers, clutching a toy sword. My heart was beating erratically and the time passed so slowly. It was a school night too so I was worried about being tired the next day. And I peeked my eyes out to see the red glow of my clock as it rolled over to zero. Dead silence. I waited a few seconds for it, but nothing happened.”

“It?” Riko said.

“Yeah.  _It_ . When all my toys would come to life and my room became a bustling hive of activity in the dark of the night. Either that or the monsters in my closet and under my bed would show themselves. It was silly – I even knew back then how unlikely it was – but there was something so magical about midnight. I think the clock’s rollover really emphasized it. A reset – an end, a start – and the very precise, predictable moment when it happens. Yet I had never experienced it before. Nowadays, I stay up past midnight more often than not and don’t bat an eye at the start of the new day, which is depressing now that I think about it, but, anyways, when I was young it was a big moment. I didn’t hate my toys or want to hurt them – despite the katana my sweaty hands clutched under the sheets – but can you imagine discovering that every midnight your Gundam mecha wakes up and starts groaning and grumbling about how terrible of a kid it belongs to?”

“You were afraid your toys didn’t like you.”

“When you phrase it like that... shit.”

Riko giggled.

“I never solved my Rubik’s cube before I lost it, so wouldn’t blame it for hating me,” Yoshiko said, laughing too. “But most of my toys were Lego, which in retrospect would be terrifying because they hurt enough as inanimate objects. Can you imagine them  _consciously_ moving to position themselves under your feet?” Yoshiko cleared her throat. She wanted to stay on topic but the rambling was both because she was nervous and Riko was such a good listener anyways so it didn’t feel wrong. “But anyways my toys didn’t come alive and there was nothing scary under my bed so I decided that there was nothing to fear. Maybe it’s less about not being afraid of the dark as it is liking midnight. Even before Ruby and Zuramaru, midnight was my first and most trusted friend.”

“Friend?” Riko questioned.

“F-word!”

“We both know you said it.”

“You know nothing, Lily! Midnight is my ally, my acquaintance, and my amigo! Midnight’s magic guides me and my faith in its guidance grants me my greatest powers.”

“So what  _are_ you afraid of?”

Yoshiko paused to consider. “If my feet ever brush seaweed while I’m swimming, I swear I’ll drown and take down everyone around me.”

“How is that any different from the dark? It’s fear of the unknown.”

“Seaweed and piranhas aren’t unknown. Also, fuck heights.”

“ _That’s_ the f-word.”

“That’s where we differ.”

“If you don’t like heights then maybe you should stop climbing trees.”

“Most trees aren’t that tall. And it’s nice to people-watch or relax. But I do think I’m getting too old for it.” Rather, too heavy. “What about you? What are you afraid of?”

“Dogs,” Riko said.

“Like, the animal-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She didn’t really get it, but if she did then wouldn’t she be afraid of them too? Still, she spent a couple minutes in silence trying to understand a fear of mankind’s most loyal minions. Gave up. “And the dark?”

“There are legitimate dangers out there,” Riko said. “My reasons for being afraid of a dark forest are completely valid.”

“Heights and piranhas are valid, too. Besides, the forest’s animals are more afraid of us than we are of them. And the axe-murderess has already left.”

“Don’t you mean shovel-murderess?”

“Doesn’t sound nearly as good.”

Riko stopped walking. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, “Where are we?”

Yoshiko stopped, too, and looked around. Her phone’s light didn’t penetrate far into the forest. There was nothing familiar around. Nothing but trees.

“I thought you were leading,” Yoshiko said.

Riko shook her head. “I thought you were.”

This probably should have been brought up five minutes ago, instead of stupid Lego conversations.

“Sorry,” Yoshiko said.

“There’s no need to apologize. It’s both our faults.”

“No. It’s my fault. It’s my bad luck flaring up. We didn’t get any rain so I was wondering how it would manifest. But worry not! My phone has a compass.”

The river was the most reliable landmark to find in the dark, so they went east until they hit it – which ended up only being a minute’s walk. This was an immediately relief, and the two of them relaxed again. Since they were at the water, Yoshiko had a sudden urge to swim and there were absolutely zero ulterior motives for what she said next:

“Wanna skinny-dip?”

Unfortunately, she couldn’t gauge Riko’s reaction since their only light was dedicated to guiding them. But she did hear an “Eh?”

“Just kidding,” Yoshiko added quickly. “I just didn’t get much swimming in today, with the trees and all.”

“Right.”

“I don’t think Ruby did either. She’s been a lot obsessed with bugs lately, hasn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, here’s our turn, I think.” It was a well-used dirt path that led away from the river. “The road to hell is paved much like this one, I’d say.”

Despite getting lost, they made good time finding the administrator’s campsite.

The devil was an old lady tending to a fire.

“So this is the afterlife,” Yoshiko said as she and Riko came upon the group of old maids.

The camp administrator, as most were, was happy with the company. Especially with someone like Chika, who had been regaling her with tales of silliness and nonsense that she was so adept at.

Riko rushed forward to hug Chika from behind. “You’re alive!”

“Of course I am,” Chika said. “I’m the protagonist! If Kanan was going to kill me, it’d have to be last, after I find all your corpses and weep over them.”

“The protagonist?” Mari scowled. “Then what does that make me?”

“Well, you’re blonde and were the first to die,” Chika started and didn’t stop, “so probably the token dumb blonde.”

* * *

Kanan fetched them and they returned to a content, crackling fire, ready for burger patties.

Yō and Yoshiko set to work prepping the ingredients and cooking. Dia was fine. Completely, entirely, unaffected by events. Whatever Kanan had said or done, it had worked. The student council president was back to normal levels of pissiness.

“We bought some mochi,” Yō announced. “For dessert. It was Yoshiko’s idea.”

She set them on the small folding table next to the fire. The word ‘dessert’ had half the group staring at them intensely. Hanamaru and Chika were already inching in for the kill, but Yoshiko fended them off with a hot stick. The box of mochi would remain untouched until all had eaten their meals.

“Why are there ten of them?” Dia said.

Damn. Why did she have to count so quickly? Those two sisters were complete killjoys.

“I must have miscounted,” Yoshiko said. “Some unlucky girl will get two.”

“I volunteer, zura.”

“Fate does not work that way.”

Nobody else challenged fate’s career, and the conversation moved on. Eventually, with Dia more talkative, it turned to the inevitable:

“We need to train, tomorrow,” Dia said.

Chika swallowed. “Train? How?”

“Are you not the club president? You tell me.”

“I was thinking, y’know, we don’t train.”

“This little venture is coming out of the club budget. It is, by definition, a club trip.”

“Yeah, isn’t that convenient?”

“I’m well-practiced in writing up UHS-97 forms,” Dia warned.

“Whatsit-97 forms???”

“It’s misuse of club funds!” Mari declared.

Ruby was in awe. “You’re so knowledgeable!”

“Never underestimate the school director,” Mari said. “I’m also quite familiar with UHS-69’s.”

Dia froze. “What’s that?”

“Oh la la~, you don’t know? Aren’t you the student council president?”

“Of course I am, and I have _never_ heard of such a piece of documentation!”

“You’re going to have a busy end-of-year, then, aren’t you?”

“Don’t listen to her,” Kanan said. “She’s obviously making it up.”

“Fear not, young one,” Mari continued unabated. “School is for learning, after all. Actually, I’d be willing to teach you, one-on-one, if you asked nicely.”

Dia, her brainpower completely focused on paperwork, stood up like she was going to run all the way down the mountain and back to the school to search her filing cabinets. But before she could do that or stop to think long enough to murder Mari, Yō guided her towards the food. While they all were talking, the preparations had been completed. With dinner in front of her, Dia relaxed.

Everyone lined up to add the ingredients they wanted to their burgers and in minutes they were all eating. The scramble to get food had mixed up their seating arrangements, and now Yoshiko was sitting next to Mari. Regrettably, she looked over to see Mari take the top bun off the burger and begin eating it piece by piece.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Yoshiko said, wondering if it irked anyone else. It was probably a sign of a psychopath, actually. She would need to research it when she got back to civilization.

“How do you know?” Mari said with a mouthful of tomato. “Maybe I’m the only right one here.”

Dia was quick to chide her. “No eating with your mouth full.”

“It’s training, Dia. You told us we needed to train.”

“In what way do you think eating and talking is training?”

“Multitasking,” Chika pitched in. “It’s a critical skill in Endless Oratorio.”

Dia didn’t dignify it with a response.

So Chika declared, “Team building exercise number one begins now!”

“And what is that?” Yō said.

“Two truths, one lie.”

Yō smiled. Probably because she would have an advantage with Chika. “As the group leader and the one with the idea, you go first.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Chika said. “Okay, here goes: I have cheese in my pocket. I have a tangerine in my pocket. I have cake in my pocket.”

“It has to be about yourself,” Dia pointed out.

“It is!” Chika countered, indignant.

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Kanan said.

“Obviously you’re lying about the-” Yoshiko stopped. Calling it obvious was too presumptuous. “There’s no way, right?”

“Better to tackle it from a different angle,” Yō said. “The cheese is easy – she’s a pocket cheese kind of girl. And knowing Chika, the tangerine is a truth, too.”

“But look at her,” Hanamaru said.

Chika was wearing tight-fitting beige shorts. There was no suspicious bulge.

“A tangerine is impossible,” Yō realized.

“Not so fast,” Mari said. “Stand up, Chika! Turn around!”

Chika gladly stood up and showed her rear to the group. Again, no signs of a squished tangerine in her back pockets.

“Could – could it just be really small?” Ruby said.

“That’s enough,” Dia said. “Chika, it’s two truths one lie, not two lies one truth.”

“I never lie,” Chika said.

“It’s not three truths zero lies either,” Riko said.

“Fine. I lied once, and exactly once.”

The group, stumped, fell into silence.

“Come on,” Chika said, holding back her laughter. “It’s easy.”

“Like we would believe that,” Dia said. “You’re trying to trick us. What if it’s the cheese?”

Chika pointed down at her shorts. “I’ll let you reach in and feel.”

“Objection,” Mari said. “That’s cheating!”

“Sustained,” Kanan declared. “Carry on.”

“Do it, then,” Dia ordered Yō, who was closest.

“Not so fast!” Chika said. “I said _you_ could reach in. Not anybody else.”

Dia flushed. “Why does it have to be me?”

“I dunno. Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Because because. What are you afraid of more? My pockets, or losing?”

Chika was a formidable foe. Mari was watching with great interest as Dia stood up and made a wide circle around the fire. With a dramatic welcoming gesture, Chika invited Dia into her pocket.

But Dia hesitated.

“It has to be the tangerine,” Dia said. “You can squish cake, but not a tangerine.”

“The hydraulic press would beg to differ,” Kanan said.

“I think even that would be overkill,” Yō observed.

Kanan shook her head. “No such thing.”

“Are you gonna quit?” Chika asked.

Dia harrumphed. “Of course not.”

It was not false bravado. She put her hand in Chika’s pocket and Yoshiko had this vague feeling of watching something inappropriate. If it had been Mari, then the feeling would have been well-founded, but instead it was a disturbing uncertainty, with Dia making a wide range of facial expressions and Chika giggling and Yoshiko unable to look away. When they spoke of a youth full of vibrant experiences and memories, this was not what Yoshiko had imagined.

Dia’s face ended on something resembling disappointment in humanity and then she nodded and withdrew her hand.

Returning to her seat, she sat down, sighed, and said, “The cake is a lie.”


	29. Mountain Part VI - Truths

There was at least one thing Yoshiko could admire about everyone in _That’s Elephant!_.

For Chika, it was her ability to delight in the small things. When she took the tangerine out of her pocket to show everyone, she looked like the world’s happiest girl. Or proudest mother. Yoshiko wasn’t really sure which. The tangerine was ripe – it wasn’t half-grown and early-picked – it was just unnaturally small. Kinda pathetic looking, and probably more sour than sweet. That said, Chika was weirdly prideful of it, and everyone’s lackluster reactions didn’t rain on her parade.

“Why did you bring such a small tangerine?” Yō asked.

“It’s my ‘item of volume less than zero point two five cubic meters with moderate personal significance and under two thousand five hundred yen in retail value and not food unless it’s a tangerine’ tangerine!”

“Of course it is.”

“You wanna feel it?”

“What? No.”

Chika was not dissuaded. She got up close and offered it. “Dia already did, so it’s only fair that you get to, too.”

“I said, I’ll pass.”

And closer.

Yō growled. Again, Yoshiko had a feeling she was watching something she ought not to.

“Touch it,” Chika said.

“Not interested.”

“Everybody is waiting,” Chika complained. “Come on.”

“I refuse. Get someone else’s approval.”

“I need yours.”

As expected, the berating made progress. Yō relented and poked it.

“That’s not enough,” Chika said. “Pet it.”

Yō grit her teeth, but did. And when she glanced at the fire, Yoshiko half expected her to grab the tangerine and hurl it in. Would that be worse than Alana’s murder?

In any case, the other girls were watching curiously. But their turns came soon enough. Even Yoshiko, who dubbed the tangerine an honorary little demon because why not? Bonus points that it pissed off Yō.

The game did not resume until Chika had gone around the full circle and made everyone pet the tangerine. Dia looked like she had the same desire to burn the tangerine, but then again, she was also the type who probably preferred to serve a five course meal from a freezer. When it came time for her to exact revenge on Chika for all Chika had done, it would not be pretty. Yoshiko could only hope, with all the bad luck in the world, that she wouldn’t be around to be caught in the crossfire.

* * *

The last in the circle to play was Riko. Well, technically Mari hadn’t gone yet, but they vetoed her going. Ever. It was too dangerous, according to Dia. As usual with the third years, there was some unsaid history there. So Riko was up, and she’d had plenty of time to think of what to say. Judging by her demeanor, Yoshiko knew what it was going to be. Sure, Yoshiko didn’t like rumours and gossip, but it was nice to be in-the-know for once. The rest of the group were stupid, oblivious humans who would be put in their place in mere moments.

Riko cleared her throat. And then: “I’m afraid of dogs. I play piano competitively. I play Endless Oratorio with game sounds muted.”

“Riko, Riko, Riko.” Chika shook her head and tutted. “You should’ve learned how to play by now. You can’t make it this easy.”

“Better too easy than too hard,” Kanan said, as a few eyes narrowed on Dia.

Hanamaru’s eyes, notably, narrowed on the dessert waiting for them at the end of the game. Yoshiko made sure the Tactical QRF Stick was within arm’s reach.

“I think we’re all in agreement, then,” Yō said. She waited a moment for an objection, but none came. “Then, you’re lying about playing with game sounds muted.”

It almost looked like Riko was going to back out of it. She’d had the opportunity to choose when to broach the subject, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m sorry,” Riko eventually said, bowing her head. “I cheated. They’re all true.”

Chika gasped. “What? You’re afraid of dogs?!”

“Wow,” Mari said. “You’re a competitive pianist? Would you say you’re... a big pianist? What about your posture when you’re playing? Do you sit erect? Are you an erect pianist? Get it? Get it? Because it sounds like-”

“Can you all please take this seriously?”

The outburst wasn’t by Dia, surprisingly. Riko was on her feet, fists trembling at her side. She looked distraught. It was probably not the reaction she was expecting. But how were they supposed to react? Nobody was equipped to have this conversation, yet here it was, forced on them. But they had a right to know, too. Maybe an obligation. They were a team. This was nobody’s fault.

“I – I know I’m holding the team back,” Riko said, quieter. “I know everyone has expectations in me and I’m letting them and the entire team down. I didn’t want it to be like this – I was hoping I’d be able to work around it or through it or be stronger or better or something...”

Finally, Ruby said, “Why?”

“I want to explain myself,” Riko said, taking a deep breath. “But I’m not trying to excuse my play or look for pity or anything. I just want to be honest with everyone. I’ve been playing piano since as long as I could climb onto the stool. Maybe a little before that. I’ve been receiving professional instruction for nearly as long, too. I remember, when I was too young to even play Endless, my first instructor. I aspired to be half as good as him – still do – and after only a year under him, he was hired away by the Endless Company. His music is in the game, and it became a dream of mine to achieve the same.

“Composition was – is – something I love. I’ve competed in a few piano composition competitions with decent success. The most recent one was held by the Endless Company. It was my chance.”

Yoshiko ran through a mental timeline and confirmed her suspicion. “The OCC.”

Riko nodded.

“The what?” Kanan said.

“The Oratorio Composition Contest,” Riko said. “The winner gets a large cash prize, but more importantly their music put into the game’s OST.”

Despite not knowing about music careers, Yoshiko was pretty certain that exposure to hundreds of millions of people was a good start for an up-and-coming pianist.

“Eh?” Chika said, only now recovering from Riko’s earlier outburst. “So? So? How did you do?”

“I lost, obviously. The judges – I remember their faces and words so clearly. ‘Not good. Not nearly good enough.’ ‘A surprising disappointment.’ ‘A vapid performance.’ ‘Myopic, immature, unpracticed.’ Before then, I’d achieved only success and everyone I knew believed I would win. I believed it, too. I had thought it was my best work yet. The hours I poured into it – the days and weeks and months – all wasted. Or not even that. It worked against me. It went towards my ruin. I didn’t even want to think about the game for a while after, let alone play it. But it’s hard to stay away. You never hear about people quitting. I was no exception. Still, when I returned I just didn’t want to hear it – and I’m not just talking about the game’s music. All of it sickened me. The sound of magic, the birds, the ocean’s waves. So I muted it, and since then, I’ve been unable to turn the sounds back on. It’s...”

“We get it,” Kanan said, saving any more pain.

The game of two truths one lie was forgotten as everyone offered words of comfort and encouragement that neared the pity Riko didn’t want. Yoshiko, for her part, listened and wondered what she could even add. If the power of f-word-ship was enough to help Riko over this mental block, then already Yoshiko was useless. The other seven would solve it. So Yoshiko tended to the fire while they talked.

“I never knew there was a composition contest,” Chika eventually said. “Just how many contests does Endless run?”

“Those two are the most popular,” Yoshiko said. “There’s also one for art and one for literature-”

“Literature? You mean writing? Don’t tell me that’s the real reason Hanamaru plays?”

“No. Zuramaru is just there for the reading.” Probably. A glance towards Hanamaru confirmed it.

The change of topic finally came with a sudden clap from Yō. “Dessert,” she announced.

Nobody complained.

Yoshiko watched as everyone took a mochi and began eating. Several of them glanced at the one left over, but Yoshiko picked up the Tactical QRF Stick and they stayed away.

As Yoshiko ate, a new thought occurred to her: Endless Oratorio contests had a weird, little known rule. If a player won a prize in one type of tournament, they couldn’t participate in the others. Artists would stay artists, and fighters fighters. Some said it was to focus people on what they did best, so they could achieve even greater heights, but who really knew what the Endless Company and their lawyers intended?

Because Riko couldn’t win the OCC, had she decided to fight for a victory in Oratorio Live? It was an ambitious pivot, if so. And a questionable motivation, too.

And speaking of Riko, she was hit by a sudden onset of coughing. Chika moved in to help her, thinking she was choking, but Riko gasped and said, “It’s spicy!”

“No it’s not,” Chika said. “If you want to cry, you don’t need to make up a reason.”

“I’m not lying,” Riko said, shaking Chika off and moving for the cooler with the drinks.

Dia, sitting next to Yoshiko, was maybe the first realize. She was, after all, the first to notice they had ten mochi.

“What did you do?” Dia asked.

“Nothing,” Yoshiko said. “Nothing that wasn’t aligned with hell’s edict.”

Tears in her eyes, Riko forgot her panic and glared at her. “I thought we were friends!”

“Don’t be throwing around the f-word like that.”

“Free?” Mari said.

“Finished?” Chika said.

“Fat, zura?”

Dia crossed her arms. “Failure?” she asked.

“Forgotten?” Yō chipped in.

Riko shook her head. “None of those are the f-word and you all know it.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said, “it’s _fuck_!”

Dia fainted.

Yoshiko caught her before she could fall off the log.

Hanamaru gasped and then started choking and Chika rushed to her aid, maybe glad to actually save someone after Riko disappointed her.

Yoshiko blinked and blinked and wondered if she somehow got Riko and Ruby mixed up in the dark but that was impossible because they couldn’t have switched voices. Indeed, Ruby had sworn. And the world wept for it. The fire wept – its snaps, crackles, and pops hurt like buckshot. The owl that had been watching their fun and games from a branch high above wept, asking, ‘ _who, who, whooo?_ ’ like it couldn’t have been Ruby. Mari weeped – yes, some kind of off-brand ‘wept’ – keeping her head down in her lap with a waterfall of hair obscuring her face and tears.

Even Riko had seemed to forget about the spicy mochi. Mochi was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Because how grand was this moment?

Indeed, those words spoken by Ruby were momentous. They would resound through space and time and, in accordance with the butterfly effect, irrevocably and irreparably affect the machinations of the world. The gods were useless. Hope and prayers and even science would only fall flat, for Ruby had forever changed the world.

At least Ruby looked sheepish about it.

“Should I not have said that?” she asked.

Since Dia was out cold, Yoshiko thought it safe enough to say, “It’s fine. Just, maybe, don’t do it again in front of Dia.”

“Don’t do it again, period,” Kanan advised. She stepped in and picked Dia up in a bridal carry. “I’ll take Dia to bed. The rest of you should go to sleep soon, too. We have an early morning, if we want to beat the hot weather.”

It was a relief to get rid of Dia before she could regain consciousness. Yoshiko needed a plan, because it was either her or Mari that would get blamed for being a bad influence on Ruby. The obvious route was to accuse Mari, but with Mari and her quick tongue present, that was liable to backfire. So blame someone else? Someone who wouldn’t be there to defend themselves? It was a dirty tactic and that’s why Yoshiko liked it.

“She’s right,” Mari said, moving in on Ruby. She was suddenly all stranger-danger now that Dia wasn’t around and Hanamaru was suffering from shock. “We should retire for the night.”

“You’re not carrying me.”

“ _Pleeeease._ ”

“Nope.”

“Can you carry me, then?”

“Good night,” Ruby said.

“I’m light! I swear! Just ask Kanan!”

Ruby didn’t even respond as she stood up and bid everyone else good night. She left for her tent with an abject Mari following.

“You okay, Hanamaru?” Yoshiko asked.

Hanamaru nodded. Her lifeless eyes were staring at where Ruby had been sitting a minute ago. Chika was rubbing her back consolingly.

“What about me?” Riko said, water bottle in one hand and mochi in the other. She looked bitterly at the mochi. Like _it_ had betrayed her, instead of Yoshiko. Some credit, please?

“Hmm? What about you? This is Ruby’s turn for character development. Quit trying to butt in.”

Riko squeezed the mochi until its fillings threatened to fall out.

“You’d better not be thinking of wasting it,” Yoshiko said.

“I would never,” Riko said. There was a notable discrepancy between her words and expression. “After you went through all the effort of getting it for me.”

Yoshiko had some concerns.

“Hold on-”

Riko was no baseball player, but that didn’t make it any less scary when she sent the mochi flying Yoshiko’s way. Yoshiko brought her arms up to shield herself, and it hit her chest and fell into her lap. She checked it and noted with some satisfaction that none of the filling had fallen out.

“A peace offering from the heavens?” she said, bringing it to her mouth. “I’d be remiss to refuse.”

* * *

Hopefully the evening of team bonding around the campfire satisfied Chika, because everyone had finally retired to their tents.

Yoshiko was adjusting things on her side of the tent when she bumped her duffel-bag and it made a clinking sound. That was odd because it should have been all clothes no candelabra. And clothes did not clink. Glancing back to ensure Chika was busy changing and setting out her sleeping bag, Yoshiko investigated. After a little digging, she pulled out a litre of vodka. The second bottle was sake. Parenting at its finest.

Again, she peeked back at Chika.

Was this threatening to be a crossroads as equally important as Ruby’s vocabulary? Clutching the vodka in sweaty hands, Yoshiko closed her eyes and envisioned their future: Hanamaru getting drunk on a drop of sake, Dia drinking directly from the vodka bottle while crying about how she would never meet Dia, and Mari pulling out whatever ill-gotten goods she’d brought. It threatened to be a great and terrible thing. Yet oddly absent from her imagination was herself.

And Yoshiko tried and tried to envision it, but couldn’t, so, knowing better than to test her luck, she decided to ignore the alcohol and replace it in her bag.

Like Chika, she adjusted her foam mattress and sleeping bag and then, because it was much too hot, settled on top of it all and closed her eyes. She counted three black sheep drowning in their attempt to cross the Styx. The fourth was eaten by Cerberus and the fifth-

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chika said. “Let’s talk.”

Nope. Not satisfied, then.

“We’ve been doing that all day,” Yoshiko said, opening an eye.

“But night has hardly even started.”

Unfortunately, this struck a chord with Yoshiko. The night was long. Long live the night. She sat up.

“Girl talk!” Chika squealed.

Yoshiko groaned and nearly lay back down but that would have been like doing a sit-up and it was too damn stuffy in the tent to be doing exercise.

“What?” Chika said. “You don’t like talking about girls?”

“Oh.” Yoshiko had misinterpreted it. “Well, that’s fine, I guess.”

“So what do you think, then?”

“About?”

“About Riko, of course!”

“Uhhhh?” Yoshiko had a lot of thoughts about Riko. Most bathed in an angelic light, playing the piano, or wearing a bikini. One, dangerously, all three.

Chika didn’t wait for a more articulate answer. “She plays without sounds! I don’t even know what to think about it. It’s so outlandish – oh! Could it be that she’s an alien?”

“What would an alien be doing on Earth participating in Endless Oratorio tournaments?”

“A self-discovery journey, duh. She’s tired of being a normal alien, and wants to shine! Just like me! And that’s how we found each other! Together, we’ll save the school and find something great!”

“And... is winning Oratorio Live necessary for that?”

“Huh?”

“If we don’t make it all the way – hell, we might not even get into the preliminaries – what then? Is it all over? The school will close, we’ll all go our own ways, and you just won’t find this thing you’re so determined to find?”

“Um.” Chika began rummaging in one of her bags. “I hadn’t thought that far.”

“No, I’m not surprised.”

“Lollipop?” Chika said, offering one.

It was a bad idea. Yoshiko accepted. There was a crinkling of wrappers as they both opened their candy.

Chika started slow. “I don’t really know the right words, but I think I was scared of Riko when she said that.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t really understand her, then, could I? It’s like, I’m all happy here without any problem in the world and I somehow think that that’s how everyone else feels, and when Riko reveals this about herself, I’m kinda mad at her for ruining the image of her I had in my head, and then I’m mad at myself for being mad at her, and it’s like, what else is there that I don’t know about her? Is she just a complete unknown that I’ve placed a mirror in front of and decided that was okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And so how am I supposed to react? I forced her into it, being all persistent and – a-and annoying and stupid. Does she like music or not? Does she like Endless or not? Does she like me or not? How can I know? What do I do? I’m stumped and normally I’d just carry on like it’s all elephant but this time I can’t and that’s scary. Usually the unknown is fun and exciting and waiting for me, but I don’t want to make her upset so now it’s a not-fun kind of unknown. Y’know?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause and a crunch and a lollipop’s death. Chika continued, “So I need a new game plan but believe it or not I’ve never been very good at strategizing but it’s too dangerous to just wing this.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Yoshiko said.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could help Riko out? Like, tie her to a chair and force her to listen to the music until she’s used to it?”

“Erm-”

“Or something like that, but subtle. Or not subtle, because that’s not my strong suit either. I have to work to my strengths if I want to be successful, don’t I? If I overwhelm Riko with weak attempts then we’ll have a real problem. It’s like that time I thought the chicken would die to the poison DoT and so I started looting the treasure chest except instead of a chicken it’s something bordering on psychological trauma that I’m nowhere near equipped to deal with but will pretend I am to keep things moving forward and instead of the chest it’s Oratorio Live so all in all it’s high-risk high-reward which is my specialty so I guess I am playing to my strengths, aren’t I? And speaking of treasure chests – no, wait – not yet – that’s for tomorrow. Gosh, I feel so much better being able to hash this out with someone. You know, normally I’d bring this to Yō but I don’t know if she knows Riko like you do, you know? Hey, you ever think of becoming a psychologist?”

“Uh, what?” Yoshiko said once she was sure Chika was done talking.

“I feel like I can talk about anything with you, yeah? And you listen so well and ask these hard-hitting questions.”

If anyone, it was Ruby who always came out with the hard-hitting questions. But never mind that. Chika, again, had a very wrong mental image of one of her teammates.

Yoshiko said, “I have empirical evidence that the human condition is bullshit and don’t get me started on philosophy.”

Chika laughed.

It wasn’t supposed to be a joke. Yoshiko sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was RNG again to determine who got the spicy mochi. I think I’ll just use RNG to determine the rest of the story (or maybe GPT-3). Also, writing Ruby’s line felt like a crime, I’ll admit.


	30. Mountain, Part VII - Jealousy

Their tent was large and the upper half was a transparent netting, showing the night sky between the trees. The three of them were the only ones able to stare up at the stars.

“Hey,” Yō said once they’d all changed and climbed into their sleeping bags. “Why are you a bard?”

Somehow, Yō had ended up in the middle of the three of them. Lying on her back, she had Hanamaru to her right and Riko to her left and the stars very far in front.

“It was a decision I made a long time ago,” Riko said.

“And now?”

“I still love music, if that’s what you’re wondering. The piano is my first love, and that won’t change.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? People see a bard and say, ‘play me a song’, or ‘what instrument do you play?’, or ‘are you a music major?’. All these people see you and have these inherent expectations that you can’t live up to. Don’t you feel, on some level, a wrongness in it?”

Riko shrugged but didn’t deny it.

“You could change classes,” Yō said.

It was cowardice that made her say it. Like it would be easier if someone else was also doing it. Or it would draw attention away from herself as she stumbled through the process. Or even worse, a passing thought far beneath her: if Riko changed classes then Yō could switch to a bard and fill that role that was so important to Aqours and Chika’s success.

“What for?” Riko said.

“You’re okay with it? Even if it doesn’t serve you well?”

“I have no problems with who I am. Or rather, I doubt I could become any better if I changed. I may not be perfect now, but would a drastic change help me or would I just be moving perpendicular to my goal?”

Riko was too good. And Yō hated it. She had waltzed in, pretty and smart, and captured Chika like it was nothing but practice. Yō wasn’t trying to notice these things, but she still did. She saw how Chika glowed when Riko petted the tiny tangerine, and how distraught Chika was, as though the world were collapsing and burning all at once, as Riko spoke about her problem. These were emotions Yō could never evoke. Yō was always there as a fallback. Just an inconsequential second thought.

“You said it yourself: you’re holding us down. What’s the worst a class change can do?”

“ _Y_ _ō_ ,” Hanamaru hissed.

“No, maybe she’s right,” Riko said. “I don’t know. I think I thought I could make it work. But I need to reevaluate.”

“If you need to reevaluate, what about me, zura?” Hanamaru whispered. “I’m worse than you, and have no excuse. How am I supposed to feel?”

“You haven’t been playing long – at least not like this,” Yō said. “The experience you earn from every battle goes a lot further with you than it does with us.”

“Yō is right,” Riko said, but of course Yō was right and hearing it only peeved her off. “You’re improving faster than any of us, in our practices.”

Yō hadn’t thought she’d created the right atmosphere for everyone to spill their inner thoughts, but that’s what happened anyways. Hanamaru was painfully aware of everyone’s low expectations of her, and Yō and Riko competed in giving advice, comfort, and encouragement to the first year. Their whispers carried late into the night, sometimes sidetracked by noises heard outside or silly, small game anecdotes remembered. If Hanamaru had been in the center of the three of them, then it might even have lasted all night and became a fond memory.

When the conversation slowed and then stopped and Yō could hear regular breathing from the two girls beside her, she allowed herself to relax. They’d drawn from a hat, yet the three worst players were sent to the same tent. If she had ended up in a different tent, Yō could have pretended otherwise, but like this it was undeniable.

Being forced to acknowledge that ugly reality didn’t mean she would give up, though.

* * *

Yō woke up at sunrise and lay in the tent listening to the sounds of the morning forest before the hum of the cicadas took over. The conversation from last night made her want to do something. Staying still was impossible. Her feet twitched like she should be running or swimming. Listening to the early day birdsong, she got dressed and slipped outside.

It was the coolest part of the day, but the sunlight that snuck through the trees was warm on her skin. She wasn’t hungry yet, but in a few hours everyone would be. Still, it was plenty of time. The jog to the river only took a couple minutes – enough to get her heart rate going – and then she took the path alongside it and followed it much further than before. It zigged away from the river and up a hill – roots crossing the path like a natural staircase – and then zagged back to where she could hear the crashing of water.

The run had warmed her up nicely, and she chose a large flat rock and stripped down to her bikini and left her towel and shoes and clothes there and stepped up to the cliff’s edge. High diving put her on top of the world. It was her first love. Around her, she could see everything and everyone, and her potential was at its greatest. She felt safe, at height.

Yō peered down at the rumbling waters she’d swam in the day before.

There was nothing special down there. There was nothing but normal life. The thing Chika had declared war against. Yō smiled, took a few steps back, and then ran and jumped.

The drop was a rush of air and seconds and a single, selfish somersault.

In the water, the cold was a welcome shock, and she swam down rather than surface immediately. At the bottom, where the current was less, her hands grazed along the pebbles. She was surprised to see them at all. Both their existence, and the light reaching this far, were unexpected. Everywhere else along the river, the rocks were larger, slimier, uglier. Down here, beneath the waterfall, was a trapped collection of beautiful stones. A rainbow of reddish browns, greens, and purples.

She took a handful and surfaced.

Taking a moment to orient herself, she swam towards the shore and bemoaned the barefoot walk back up to her possessions. By the time she got back up top, she would be wanting to jump again. It threatened to turn into an endless loop.

“Yō?”

At the trail’s edge, Ruby.

“Morning, Ruby,” Yō said.

“Good morning. What are you doing out here?”

Yō thought it was pretty obvious. Nonetheless, she said, “Swimming.”

“And diving.”

Yō tried to take it in stride. “Yeah. You saw?”

“You shouldn’t be diving alone,” Ruby said, sounding a lot like her older sister. “It’s dangerous.”

“Never mind me. What are you doing awake at this time?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Yō thought about Ruby’s tent. “Ah. Sorry, but I’m not going to ask for details.”

“It’s better that way,” Ruby said with a defeated shrug.

“And what brought you to the river, then? It doesn’t look like you’re here to swim.”

“I’m here because of you. I saw you leaving camp and followed.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to be. It’s fine. How was your sleep?”

“Riko talks in her sleep.”

“Oh. Is it...?”

“No. Stupid, trivial stuff. I think. It’s mostly hard to make sense of.”

“Does she know?”

Yō snorted. “Who would tell her?”

“You could.”

“Nah.”

Ruby looked back towards camp. “No?” she pressed.

“Let’s head back. I promised Chika breakfast would be waiting if she got up at an appropriate time.”

“Okay. Your, um, clothes?”

“They’re up top. I’ll go grab them – meet you back at the tents?”

“Hold on,” Ruby said. “You don’t have your shoes; I’ll get them for you.”

Before Yō could protest, Ruby was running up the trail. So Yō sat on a boulder and examined the handful of rocks she’d collected from the riverbed. There were nine distinct pebbles. One surprised her. It was white with few impurities compared to the others. She hadn’t seen any like it at the bottom of the river. Her first thought was to give it to Chika, and her second was that it was a rock. Before she could convince herself to toss them back into the river, Ruby had returned with her stuff.

Yō dried off and got dressed, and then they walked back to camp together.

* * *

Dia never mentioned last night. Whether it was a repressed memory or she was biding her time, nobody knew. But that didn’t mean anyone was safe.

They were still waiting on Chika and Yoshiko, but everyone else was sitting around the charcoals of last night’s fire. French toast won out over pancakes, so Yō was in the process of cooking over the portable stove. Ruby was helping as assistant-chef since Yoshiko was still sleeping, and she made the mistake of yawning.

“Did you not sleep well?” Dia asked.

“I was up late,” Ruby said.

Dia immediately turned on Mari. “What did you do to her?”

“Wait a second, this is unfair!” Mari said, speedrunning panic. “I’m innocent! I plead innocence!”

Chika crawled out of her tent and recoiled from the sunlight. Her bed-head and sleep-ridden expression was cute enough for Yō to forget about most crimes for a second.

“I understand,” Kanan said. “Your plea has been registered. The jury will convene under the presiding juror, Chika Takami.”

“Ehhh? Me?” Chika blinked slowly a few times. “Whoooo?”

“Bias!” Mari shouted. “What about jury selection?”

“Due to the small potential jury pool, it has been decided that you will be judged by your peers. There is no time for jury selection, or, as is in the Ohara’s case, the purchasing of jurors.”

“Purchasing?” Mari said. “I would never. It’s called _donating_. Or, in extreme circumstances, gifting.”

“I’ll take a gift,” Chika said, still maybe not awake but moving limbs nonetheless.

Yō wrapped up the finishing touches to the sugary plate of French toast – raspberries for that extra bang – and handed it to Chika with a cup of coffee just how she liked it – ninety-five percent hot chocolate.

Chika gratefully accepted it. “Mmm,” she said, inhaling. “Tangerines are great, but you’re pretty good too.”

That was a win, by any measure, Yō decided. She saluted in response, but maybe the food wasn’t _that_ good because Chika paused or fell asleep with her eyes open or something. It took her a minute to start eating, and during that minute, the situation worsened for Mari. Despite no actual laws being cited as broken, Kanan began reciting the fines and jail time that Mari faced. They were pretty extravagant.

“You have no evidence,” Mari said. She spun around and pointed a finger at Dia. “You’ll never win this case!”

“No evidence? Not quite,” Dia said, moving to put her hands on Ruby’s shoulders. “I enter into evidence my younger sister.”

“A person can’t be evidence,” Mari cried. “She’s supposed to be a witness! This is a kangaroo court, I say! You’re all kangaroos, the lot of you! Hopping mad!”

Kanan shook her head. “I don’t think you know what that means.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s wrong,” Dia said.

And, despite Yō’s gift, Mari was found guilty and the assistant-chef cooked for Riko.

* * *

After breakfast, a hike was their morning activity.

It was only going to get hotter, so if they wanted to explore the area, this was their best chance. Mari, as penitence for her crimes, carried their water and snacks. This time, it was Dia who went around with sunscreen. To Mari’s dismay, she had much better reception, even taking into account the endless lectures on the danger of the sun. Yoshiko joined in on the lectures too, proclaiming the importance of turning away from the light.

With their necks and noses protected, the nine of them set off. The order of march started with the second years leading, followed by the first years and then the third years, but in the first hour it quickly changed. Yoshiko fell behind, seemingly content with bringing up the rear, while Dia charged forward like she was looking for a bear to feed. Kanan followed Dia’s lead and that left no choice but for Mari, with all the weight of their sustenance, to chase after them, panting and gasping for breath and mercy.

The trail was too narrow to walk side by side in most areas, and, unsurprisingly, it was Riko between Chika and Yō.

Eventually, the incline increased and they were heading up the mountain on loose rocks with fewer trees for cover. There, the wind picked up. Feeling more like a mountain goat with each passing minute, Yō pushed on, keeping as little space between her and Chika as possible. But, of course, that space was always dictated by Riko.

“Watch it,” Yō snapped as a mini avalanche of rocks tumbled down and nearly tripped her up.

“Sorry,” Riko said, as she struggled to get better footing.

Ruby called something from behind, and reluctantly Yō stopped and waited for the first years. From her position on the trail, she could see how spaced out everyone else was. Yoshiko was only now leaving the forest and starting on the mountain slope. Far ahead of them, even Kanan was a good ten meters back from Dia. Mari looked ready to drop dead, as she trailed further behind yet still ahead of Chika.

Yō started moving again once Ruby and Hanamaru had caught up, but by then Chika and Riko were too far ahead to chase after.

“What’s your problem?” Ruby said, the accusatory tone all wrong on her.

“I don’t have one.”

“You’ve always been standoffish with Riko, but now you’re downright rude.”

“It’s your imagination.”

“No,” Hanamaru said.

Yō groaned. If Hanamaru agreed, then there wasn’t much room to argue. She was glad they were still on the move, so she didn’t have to face them as she spoke.

“She’s annoying,” Yō said.

“I don’t think so,” Ruby said.

Hanamaru, adding nothing of value to the conversation, said, “Nor do I, zura.”

“Yes, well, you’re all entitled to your own opinions, as am I.”

“I’m only asking because I want to help. Do you blame her for our first loss? Because she plays deaf?”

Yō considered the question. “No?” she said, thinking it mostly truthful.

“Are you worried she could be better than you, if she didn’t?”

“No.” Yō was finding Ruby just as annoying, about now. “I’m sure she would be. I’m not stupid enough to compare my skill to the rest of you.”

A backward glance told her she’d said too much.

“It’s not stupid,” Ruby said. “It’s natural.”

“It’s a mistake, in any case.”

But still Ruby did not give it up. “You need to talk about this. If you haven’t went to Chika yet, then here I am.”

What made Ruby think she could help? She was a year younger and looked two and was supposed to act three. It was all wrong.

“Riko never was the problem,” Yō snapped. “And I can’t go to Chika because Chika is!”

“Chika?” Ruby said, finally stumbling.

“That’s all the more reason to go to her, zura.”

Yō growled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then enlighten us,” Ruby said.

_I’m jealous of Riko._ How pathetic and insecure did that sound? Yō wanted to charge ahead and tackle Chika to the ground, pin her there, confess, and demand an answer so all this frustration would stop leaking out into toxicity that hurt her friends.

“Do you really want to help me?” she said, reining in the mess.

“Of course.”

“Then... has Chika ever told you about Panini?”

Hanamaru looked interested. “Bread?” she said.

“To Chika, it’s a lot more than that.”

* * *

Mount Fuji was obscured by clouds, but they could still see the ocean. In the distance, Numazu City, and up closer Awa Island. A single white cloud blocked the sun as the nine of them crowded the lookout. Kanan, who had taken pity and the backpack, handed out bottled water. Looking out to their left, a hill blocked sight of the school grounds and Yō wondered how the third years felt, fighting to save their school. Even if it had been Chika’s idea, Yō still felt strongly about it. She didn’t want the school to close. Not until – maybe it was selfish – she finished her third year there.

What about the others? Why were they here?

For the school, for fame, for a bright future?

A look around at her friends answered the question well enough. And then the cloud moved aside and the scorching sun sent them scurrying back to the shade of the trees. They were laughing about something that Yō had missed, but she joined in too, anyways.

The idea that shared experience could make them stronger as a team was all too believable.


	31. Mountain, Part VIII - Treasure

Yoshiko wanted to enjoy the rest of the hike alone, but it couldn’t be helped. Someone had zero stamina and had fallen behind to join Yoshiko. _No_ – not Hanamaru:

“They just don’t stop moving,” Chika complained. “Haven’t they heard of breaks? You gotta stop and save once in a while. Your eyes will get tired. It’s unhealthy. You have homework to do!”

“Unhealthy?”

“Injuries are unhealthy, and this is all downhill! It’s dangerous. A tripping hazard, I say. Rocks are just as bad as bananas. I mean, how many times have you tripped on rocks versus bananas?”

“Dunno.”

“Not that bananas are that great – greatness is a position solely reserved for tangerines – but rocks are a real problem.”

“Yeah?” Yoshiko said to the noise-maker’s gap in noise.

“Yes! You ever get hit by a rock thrown by a chicken before? It hurts, I tell you. It really does. Goes straight past all your armor, _wham_ , critical hit to your ego!”

That launched a riveting narrative wherein, surely unintentionally, Chika was the antagonist in a chicken’s great quest to... well, Yoshiko wasn’t really sure what the chicken was up to, and never figured it out before they made it back. She and Chika were the last ones to reenter camp. Yō was standing by to congratulate them with a salute. And from there it seemed like they had some freedom to disperse and relax.

“I wish I could just freeze time and look at it forever,” Chika said.

“Hmm?”

“I’m talking about Yō, of course!”

That was a weird sentiment, but Chika was a weird girl. So Yoshiko shrugged it off. It was time to shift focus to lunch. They had a portable stove that was much quicker to boil water with than starting a campfire. The only question was, where were they keeping it? Kanan seemed most likely to know. Had she already snuck off to the river? Yoshiko would need to ask, because she didn’t see Kanan anywhere around camp.

Problem was, Chika kept talking.

“When she smiles and salutes, it’s just so-” Chika hugged herself and squealed and wiggled, “-y’know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Yoshiko said. That kind of reaction created more questions than it answered. She shelved lunch plans. “Care to explain with more words and less whatever-that-was?”

“Eh? How can you not understand? You trying to tell me you don’t get that feeling too? You feel all warm and gooey like a banana microwaved green and your heart beats faster and – and it’s weird and it’s kinda like, _wow_ , and you wanna stay in the moment forever?”

“No.”

“Isn’t that, like, Yō’s magic power?”

“I don’t think so.”

Chika seemed genuinely shocked. “And – and she’s been warned to use it only for good, because it’s so strong? Tasked with defeating evil, it’s her duty to save us all with the power of salutes?”

“Sorry.”

They stared at each other for ten seconds before Chika looked away. If possible, she might have had a tinge of red on her ears.

“Oh,” Chika said eventually.

“Yeah.”

“Um... I’m, uh, going to go,” Chika said, without looking at her. “Dig a hole, or something.”

Yoshiko nodded. “But don’t die,” she suggested as Chika wandered off in a daze.

* * *

Chika did dig a hole. Large enough for a corpse, if they chopped it up beforehand. And then she gathered everyone around it.

There was a fair amount of confusion and concern. Yoshiko still hadn’t decided on who she’d vote to kill, yet, but figured they’d each have a chance to argue their worth to the group. And, in fact, her own speech was beautifully crafted and would ensure not a single vote against herself. Dia’s future didn’t look too bright; she was lucky to at least have a sister in the group.

Riko stepped closer to the hole. “What’s going on?”

“And I say: HEYYEYAAEYAAAEYA-”

“Chika.”

“Sorry. Did everyone bring their item of volume less than...” Chika trailed off as there were nods around the group. “Good. Great. Excellent.”

She reached behind a nearby tree and pulled out a treasure chest.

There was no other word for it. It was a wooden box larger than a shoe-box, with metallic trim, a curved lid, and a large, fancy keyhole on the side. Everyone held their breaths as Chika opened it with a flourish like a model on a game show. It was accompanied by Mari’s helpful “dun dun dun duuuuuun.” But the sound effect must not have been accurate enough, because there were no rupees inside. And, actually, it was completely empty.

“A... a time capsule?” Yō ventured.

“Ding, ding, ding!” Chika said. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!”

Hanamaru lit up at the mention of chicken for supper.

Yoshiko felt obligated to speak up. “Sorry, girls, there’s no chicken in the curry tonight.”

“Not literally, of course,” Chika said. “That would be scary. Dead _or_ alive, they’re still dangerous. But never mind chickens. You’re all witness to the first-ever Aqours Super Special Mountain Time Capsule!”

“Does it need such a specific name?” Ruby said. “Can’t we just call it a time capsule?”

“That’s less fun. When we open it five years from now, what are you going to want? You wanna blog about opening a time capsule, or about opening Aqours’ Super Special Mountain Time Capsule of Doom!”

“It got longer, zura.”

“That’s what she said,” Mari remarked, unleashing an outpouring of commentary.

“Blogging? That’s very optimistic of you, Chika, to think blogging will be a thing in five years, when it isn’t even a thing now.”

“Why is it ‘of doom’?”

“Mountain of Doom Time Capsule would sound cooler.”

“If we’re talking cooler, then it has to be death instead of doom.”

“Both of those are getting awfully close to infringing on trademarks.”

“Five years isn’t a long time for a time capsule.”

“Gah!” Chika exploded. “Enough of all of you and your complaining. Call it what you want. And five years is a long time for us. Do you really want to wait a whole ten years? That’s, like, almost a decade! We might even forget where we buried it.”

“So you compromised?” Yō said. “Very admirable.”

Chika grinned and offered two thumbs up to her only ally.

“A compromise will just leave both parties unsatisfied,” Dia said. “And besides, who was this a compromise with?”

“Probably a copy of you in her head,” Mari said.

“I’m not so easy.”

Mari, wise beyond her years, said nothing, and everybody else followed suit. It was enough to anger Dia further.

“And you, Chika!” she continued. “You’re not putting food in a time capsule.”

“Who’s going to stop me?” Chika said.

The group exchanged looks. Visualization of a five-year-old tangerine was sufficient motivation for a call to action. Even Yō seemed to switch teams.

“Hold on,” Chika said quickly. “That was a rhetorical question. Nobody is going to stop me!”

“Did you bring anything else you could put in, instead?” Riko asked.

“There’s nothing in the world that represents me better than a tangerine!”

“I can think of one thing,” Dia said.

“Eh?”

“Ten, actually. But we only need one. We’ll even let you choose.”

Chika, weirdly enough, went to protect her toes instead of her fingers.

“Body parts are just as bad as food,” Kanan said. “Denied.”

Dia tsked.

Chika breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s just start before anyone does anything they regret.”

“Wouldn’t regret it,” Dia muttered under her breath like it was unfair.

“We’ll go in order of ascending age,” Chika said. “RNG has had too much say, lately.”

The first years conferred amongst themselves, and then Ruby stepped forward.

Ever so gently, like laying a baby to rest, she placed a worn teddy bear into the treasure chest. It was a cute little thing, if a bit aged.

“Where’s your eulogy?” Chika said when Ruby tried to back away.

“A eulogy?” Ruby said.

“It’s important to you, isn’t it? Tell us why the bear is important to you in an emotional speech and then break down crying and we’ll all comfort you!”

“That’s a little...”

“Crying is fine, right?” Chika said, turning to Dia. “We’re doing a team-bonding thingy, aren’t we? Our emotions are supposed to be on display.”

Dia did not look impressed. “Just say a little something, then,” she said to her sister.

Ruby nodded. “Umm. Dia gave this to me back in elementary school when I kept having nightmares. It helped, so I got into the habit of sleeping with it. It’s time to break that habit. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Ruby was the shining light, the last bit of wholesomeness in their depraved group, and of course that meant she had to be extinguished.

“Fascinating,” Mari said. “It sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time with that bear. I bet he has a lot of interesting stories to tell. I promise not to judge – that’s Kanan’s job.”

Ruby blushed, which really could have meant anything, but leave it to Mari to assume the worst – or, in her eyes, the best.

“Rather,” she continued, “is it a him or her? Does it have a name?”

“Her name is Sapphy.”

Mari gave Dia a look like, ‘I told you so.’

“Short for sapphire,” Ruby continued. “I thought it was fitting.”

“I quite agree,” Mari said. “Yet it begs the question-”

“No it doesn’t,” Dia tried.

“-can bears be gay?”

“Swans can be,” Kanan said.

“Careful,” Mari chided. “You’ll make Dia cry again.”

“That was a long time ago!” Dia said. “We were kids. And I _didn’t_ cry! I had dust in my eye.”

Ruby smiled, probably unsure of what was going on. To be fair, so was Yoshiko. The third-years were weird. And if Yoshiko thought so, then that was really saying something. So to save Ruby from further interrogation, Yoshiko stepped forward with her item.

“What’s that?” Hanamaru said, like there was still a possibility of it being edible despite Chika’s very clear rule.

“It’s exactly as it looks,” Yoshiko said. “A hard drive.”

“A hard drive?” Chika said. “Aren’t you supposed to be a computer nerd? Where’s the SSD?”

“Solid-state drives use flash memory. The data wouldn’t necessarily survive the neglect of five years underground.” Yoshiko frowned. Lecturing people like Chika was no use. “Anyways. This is the first hard drive I bought. It has a lot of older games on it, including my retired fortress. Also, it has a download of Wikipedia from 2012 – in case the apocalypse comes and I have to reinvent modern technology and society.”

“Is that it?” Mari said.

“What else did you want me to say?”

“Games? Wikipedia? You expect me to believe that? You’re playing awfully coy about it,” Mari said. “I bet you put porn on it.”

“Seriously?” Yoshiko said, knowing full well that she had willingly stepped into the line of fire. “What age do we live in? Who saves porn to their computer anymore?”

“I do,” Mari said, indignant. “What if I’m ever out camping and don’t have internet access?”

“TMI,” Chika said.

“That had better be a hypothetical,” Dia said. “You’re sharing a tent with Ruby.”

Ruby squeaked and – yay – hid behind Hanamaru. “Did you?” she said. “While I was in the tent?”

“Relax,” Mari said. “It’s joke!”

Nobody knew whether or not to believe her, but no good could come from persisting so they all moved on. Hanamaru was next. She made sure to pass Ruby off to Dia, like a dog on a leash, before approaching the treasure chest.

“I think any book from my bookshelf would have been fine,” she said. “Because it’s a book, and we don’t have enough of those nowadays. Everything is all futuristic, zura.” She placed the book underneath the teddy bear, giving him a pedestal. “But I guess _Fahrenheit 451_ is extra fitting.”

“What’s the deal with the temperature?” Chika said. “Why is it so high? Isn’t it a little hot to be doing stuff in that kind of temperature?”

For a second it looked like Hanamaru was going to take the book back out and give it to Chika. But she resisted. “The school library has a copy. You should read it,” she said instead.

“I’ll wait,” Chika said with a shrug.

“You don’t mean five years?” Yō said.

“Is there a problem? It won’t be going anywhere.”

“And what about you?”

Again, Chika shrugged. Maybe she missed the unease in Yō’s voice. “I’ll make it back here. And all of you had better, too. Now, Yō, you’re next. What did you bring as sacrifice?”

“Excuse me?” Yō said. “My birthday is before yours.”

“Uh,” Chika said, and maybe she had a defense for not knowing or otherwise mixing things up, but she never got the chance because Riko stepped forward.

“My music,” Riko said, holding a nondescript Fuji cassette tape.

Yoshiko was grinning before she could help it. There was something very satisfying about seeing older technology out in the wild. If Yoshiko was any weirder than she was now, she might have even considered analogue erotic. Digital was all ones and zeroes, but analogue had curves.

“What’s that?” Chika said.

“It’s not food, is it?” Hanamaru said.

Chika leaned in for a closer look. “It looks suspicious.”

“And you were ragging on me for old tech,” Yoshiko said.

“It’s a cassette,” Riko explained. “It holds music.”

“Like, an MP3 player?” Chika said.

“Not quite,” Yoshiko said. “It would be like an SD card – you need something else to play the music.”

Now, if Yoshiko wasn’t an immortal who had lived on earth since prehistoric times, watching the pitiful humans struggle, she would have acknowledged that it was awfully weird to be lecturing someone _older_ than her on cassettes.

“But much older,” Riko said.

Chika gasped. “Riko! Have you been lying to us about your age?”

“No,” Riko said. “We’re the same age. I have this because my grandparents wanted to listen to my music. They only had a cassette player, so I made some copies. This is a spare.”

“How many extras did you make?” Yoshiko said, wondering if she could score one. It’d be, like, super valuable when Riko became famous in the future. That would be a much more effective money-making method than her current schemes.

“My parents have one, my grandparents, and then there’s this copy. So three, I suppose.”

Okay. How would she go about stealing from Mrs Sakurauchi? Maybe if she asked really nicely... but that was embarrassing. Better to come back here later for some grave robbing.

And, as cool as cassettes were, an even classier thought came to mind: “What about vinyl?” Yoshiko asked.

“What about it?”

“Never mind.”

If Yoshiko got one of the original cassettes, she could convert it to digital and then to vinyl. No need to let the others know how outdated her preferences were.

“Oh,” Chika said brightly, “is it because you have a record player you use on your stream?”

“Huh?” Yoshiko said, her heart-stopping. “Stream? What stream? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We’ve known for a while. Hanamaru showed us your channel.”

“She did what?!”

She glared at her ex-acquaintance, who tilted her head and said, “Zura?” like pretending ignorance was cute and could absolve her of her crimes.

Never mind the possibility of it raining on her during this camping trip; her true misfortune was meeting Hanamaru back in elementary school. That was bad luck that had followed her for years.

“Nobody was surprised,” Ruby said. “It leaks out.”

“Kill me,” Yoshiko pleaded.

Ruby blinked. “But you’re immortal.”

Now would have been a good time for Yohane to defend herself but everyone was staring and so it just wasn’t possible without a computer screen between them.

“Urgh.” Betrayed by her acquaintances, Yoshiko had no escape but to bow her head in shame. “That’s – it’s all just an act – I’m not...”

“At least you’re not as weird as Mari,” Chika said.

“You’re one to speak,” Riko said. “I can’t tell who is learning from the other, when it comes to you two.”

“The elder is the one with the experience,” Mari said. “I couldn’t fathom learning from someone younger than me.”

Before she could realize she called herself old, Riko said, “Chika, it’s your turn.”

“And no tangerines,” Kanan added. “In fact, hand it over here.”

Chika pulled the tangerine out of her pocket and stared contemplatively at it.

“Now,” Kanan pressured.

So Chika did. When her fingers left the tangerine, she dulled. Her hair lost some of its orange, her smile its brilliance, and her life five years. The sickly girl returned to the hole and looked down at the treasure as she searched her pockets.

“Cheese?” she whispered, holding the pocket cheese up. The word was desperate and fitting as her last.

“No,” everyone answered in unison.

“Listen, Chika,” Riko said, taking pity, “maybe there’s something back in camp that you can use. How about your _mikan_ shirt?”

Thankfully, Chika approved of the idea. The camp was nearby so she wasn’t gone for long. But when she returned, she had something else in hand besides her shirt.

“I nearly forgot: something from all of us,” Chika said. She showed them a printed photograph. It was the one taken at the steps to the shrine, immediately after Kanan, Mari, and Dia joined the team.

“We’ve been immortalized, zura,” Hanamaru said, like photography was new and incomprehensible.

“I already was,” Yoshiko said. “And, hey, I’m blinking in this picture. Couldn’t you have photoshopped it?”

“Yes,” Mari said. “I think I need some photoshopping too.”

“Your eyes are open,” Ruby pointed out.

“Yes,” Mari said, “butt-”

“Next,” Kanan said.

Yō was ready. She hopped down into the hole. “My first diving trophy,” she said, kneeling at the treasure chest and setting her trophy inside. In a quick motion, she added something else inside, too. Not everyone seemed to notice, though. When she stood back up, she saluted the contents. “It was a smaller competition so the trophy isn’t as impressive, but I still remember how happy it made me.”

“Uh,” Chika said. “Until further notice, you’re banned from saluting.”

“I am?” She looked to Kanan. “Am I?”

“I approve the restraining order,” Kanan said. “Until the order is rescinded, Yō’s salutes cannot enter within fifty meters of Chika.”

“Why?” Yō said.

“Why?” Kanan passed along.

“Because,” Chika said. “Because because.”

“Because,” Kanan said. “Because because.”

Yō’s hand moved like it was going to get arrested. “That’s not a fair answer.”

“Now you know how it feels,” Dia said.

“And didn’t I say _moderately_ high personal significance?” Chika asked.

“You did, and it is,” Yō said.

“Rather, I think that’s super high personal significance! It’s your first victory!”

“It’s not that great. Trust me – I’m the one who won it.”

“Butt-”

“Next, please,” Kanan said.

Mari stepped up to the treasure chest. It was the moment everyone was dreading. She reached into her pockets and spent an inordinate amount of time building the tension before pulling out a wad of thousand yen bills.

“That’s tacky,” Kanan immediately said.

“Quite the opposite, I would think.” Mari sniffed them like it was perfectly normal and not really creepy. “Twenty-five paper bills, fresh from the bank.”

“Of a thousand yen each?” Kanan asked.

“Yes. It looks better this way. Is there a problem? Do – do you think I’m cheap, now? Should I have done five thousand yen bills?”

“Chika,” Kanan addressed, shaking her head, “please read back the transcript.”

Chika cleared her throat. “Bring an item of volume less than zero point two five cubic meters with moderately high personal significance and under two thousand five hundred yen in retail value and not food unless it’s a tangerine, but apparently even if it is a tangerine some people will still-”

“Thank you,” Kanan interrupted. “You see the problem, Mari?”

Mari didn’t even try. “Nope.”

“You’re holding twenty-five thousand yen. The limit is two thousand five hundred.”

“... A rounding error?”

“You’re off by one order of magnitude,” Dia practically shrieked.

“Relax,” Mari said, trying to wave the concern away with the money. It only raised Dia’s blood pressure.

“What would you have done if Chika hadn’t specified a monetary limit?” Kanan said.

“Then it would’ve become a real treasure, now wouldn’t it?”

“No,” Ruby said, “pretty sure this qualifies.”

“It’s not a treasure!” Chika cried out. “It’s Aqours’ Super Duper Special Mountain Time Capsule of Doom. Get it right.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, when it keeps changing,” Ruby said.

Rather than placing the bills neatly in a corner of the box, Mari sprinkled them on top of everyone else’s items like garnish. When she was finished, she hmm’d like she wasn’t satisfied.

“Uh,” Chika said.

“Not enough shine.”

“Why does it matter?” Dia said. “It’ll be underground. Nobody is going to see it.”

“It’s not about seeing the shine,” Mari said. “It’s about _knowing_ the shine.”

“Exactly!” Chika said, nodding her head vehemently.

The group went silent to appreciate the moment, because it was very philosophical shit. Probably. Yoshiko wasn’t really sure. But Chika had mentioned something like that when forming Aqours. She was seeking something she – and everyone else – didn’t fully understand. Yet they still knew it wouldn’t be something that they would one day suddenly stop and see; it would be something they’d know within their heart of hearts. Or thereabouts. Again, Yoshiko didn’t really know.

“Are... you done?” Riko said when a full minute had passed and Mari didn’t back away.

“I have a confession to make.”

“Oh lord,” Kanan said. “Can we not?”

“I haven’t even confessed, yet!”

“Yes,” Dia said. “That is exactly the point. Nobody wants you to.”

“Lies!” Mari shouted. “I demand a vote!”

“The jury is now in session,” Kanan said, clapping her hands because she lacked a gavel. “Bring the results to me when you’re done, Chika.”

So Chika went around to everyone, and in hushed whispers everyone gave their votes. Then she delivered it to Kanan, and the two discussed it like it was a complex legal case study and they were students on the verge of failing.

“The jury has delivered their verdict,” Kanan declared. “It’s five to four in favour of Mari confessing. The majority wins; go ahead, Ms Ohara.”

“Wait,” Dia said. “That’s nine votes. Did you let Mari vote?”

“Details,” Mari dismissed, hands on her hips and smiling wide.

“And aren’t juries supposed to work by a unanimous consensus, not majority?”

Kanan sighed. “I would say, ‘quickly before we regret it,’ but I already do, so let’s just get this over with, Mari. And, Dia, I don’t want to have to hold you in contempt but I will if you continue your protests.”

Again, a master of suspense, Mari took the spotlight and paused.

“I couldn’t decide what to bring,” she said eventually. “So I brought three things.”

More items for the chest? Yoshiko was kinda disappointed. She’d voted yes hoping for more chaos. Confessions were good for that sort of thing. Dia stopped tapping her foot and sighed in relief. The disappointment and relief were too soon, however.

“We’ll have extra space, probably.” Chika hummed. “What else did you bring? If it’s small...”

It was histrionic.

Mari held up the black lace panties for everyone to see. The very same that had nearly burned down the school.

“My-” Dia started before quickly falling silent. Her hand, which might have been reaching out, dropped lamely to her side.

“ _My?_ ” everyone echoed.

“That’s not what-”

“Hold the front door!” Chika said. “ _Yours?_ ”

Dia maintained her composure. “That’s nonsense.”

Kanan did Dia no favours by snorting, covering her mouth, and then turning away. Mari seemed to be enjoying an early Christmas or, at the very least, release from prison.

“Dia? Is it true?” Ruby said, a look of betrayal on her face. “You... you would own something like this?”

“I can explain!”

Never had Yoshiko heard Dia stumble over so many words in such a short time. The gist of it was, if she understood correctly, that Mari gave it to Dia as a gag gift when she was elected student council president. They had been tossed aside and lost for years until Mari found them recently.

“You... you ever wear them?” Yoshiko asked.

“Of course not!”

Chika raised her hand.

“You may speak,” Judge Kanan said.

“I propose we allow Dia the choice of wearing the panties instead of putting them in The Legendary Aqours’ Super Duper Special Mountain Time Capsule of Doom!”

“Granted,” Kanan said almost before Chika was done talking.

“Hold on,” Dia said like it was three seconds ago. “Why would I do that?”

Mari was oddly quiet when it was the perfect opportunity for further teasing. But Mari’s understudy was content to fill the shoes.

Chika said, “It’s either the embarrassment now or five years spent dreading the day when we reopen this and laugh at you.”

“We won’t be in high school five years from now. We’ll _all_ be mature adults. Yes, that includes you, Chika,” Dia said. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but it won’t be funny.”

“I don’t know about that,” Yoshiko said, because, well, imagining a prim and proper Dia in five years – she would probably wear a business suit when they met to reopen the time capsule – and how happy Mari would be to throw the panties at her...

Chika said, “Are you saying the panties going in The Legendary and Amazing Aqours’ Super Duper Special Mountain Time Capsule of Doom?”

“Give me a minute,” Dia said, her voice betraying her calmness.

Nobody knew the calculations going on in her head, but her strained expression indicated there was at least some respectable attempt to solve Fermat’s Last Theorem or an equivalent. And everyone waited patiently. When she came to her conclusion, the difference in body language was obvious. Her shoulders relaxed and she looked at Chika like someone was going to die a long, slow death.

Chika looked over her shoulder.

And when Dia moved, she literally flinched. But Dia went to Mari, instead, and without the exchange of a single word, took the panties and stalked off into the forest. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, Mari moved to follow. Kanan caught her in a headlock.

“You’re misunderstanding!” Mari gasped.

“A common occurrence,” Kanan said.

“But I’m serious, this time. Dia gave me a subtle ‘come hither’ gesture!”

“At least try something believable.”

“Didn’t you see? I know she’s always looking at me, but this time it was different! She wants me to follow!”

“Your delusions will get you killed one day, but so long as I’m around, it won’t be today.”

“But what if she runs into a bear?” Mari said. “It could be dangerous!”

“They’ll bow to her, won’t they? No need to worry.”

“I will protecc!” Mari said, arms flailing as she tried to escape Kanan’s grip.

It was a pathetically hopeless show, and Yoshiko couldn’t bear to watch it any longer. She turned away.

“While we’re waiting,” Riko said, “can I ask you about the piano, Mari?”

Mari stopped her struggling. “Hmm?”

“Back in the club room. The piano doesn’t belong to the school, as far as I can tell. If you were using the room in your first year...”

“It’s a long story,” Mari warned.

“The short version?”

“It’s all or nothing.”

Riko looked around for help. Like someone else would say yes and take the blame for the fallout. When she realized nobody was so foolish – even Chika – she nodded and mumbled something that sounded like “all, please.”

“Very well.” Mari cleared her throat and shrugged off Kanan’s hug. “It begins with a very rich and beautiful girl. Also, a very clever girl.”

And then she bolted.

Kanan sighed. For a second it looked like she wasn’t going to pursue, but then she was gone too.

“Now this is awkward,” Chika said after a moment’s silence.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you had just shut up,” Yoshiko said.

Hanamaru looked the most upset. “Do you think there’s actually a story, zura?”

“We heard it all,” Ruby said. “She’s clever. Or something.”

“Or something,” Riko agreed.

Without the third-years around, they meandered around the treasure chest like low-level mobs. After a couple minutes Chika realized nobody was coming to fight them and so she went around challenging everyone to _shiritori_ and losing because _mikan_ was no strategy.

“What’s twenty-five thousand divided by six?” Yoshiko eventually asked.

“No,” Ruby said.

“Hey,” Yoshiko said, “don’t assume the worst of me all the time.”

“It’s forty-one hundred,” Hanamaru said.

“ _Thank you_. Now, I was thinking, while the third-years are gone-”

“No.”

“-yes, thank you, Ruby. We all know your thoughts on the matter. But Chika, how would you like four thousand yen?”

“Would I ever!”

“What happened to the hundred?” Riko asked.

“Surely you’re a law-abiding citizen who pays her taxes,” Yoshiko said.

“Law-abiding would mean _not_ grave-robbing.”

“Thus the paying-me part. _You_ wouldn’t be grave-robbing.”

“I’m surprised you don’t do it for free,” Riko said, looking quite smug about it.

“I only bury people for free,” Yoshiko countered, probably overly proud of herself for her quick wit.

And before Riko could respond, the third-years returned. Nobody asked any questions.

“Okay,” Chika said, “let’s keep going. This is fun! Mari, what else do you have for The Legendary and Amazing Aqours’ Super Duper Special Hidden Mountain Time Capsule of Doom?”

“Hmm?” Mari said. “No, that’s all I have. Money and panties – what more could a girl need?”

“You said you brought three things.”

“No. I said two.”

“Oh.” Chika paused. “Are you sure? I could’ve sworn-”

“Absolutely positively a hundred percent sure,” Mari said.

Kanan rushed forward. “Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Excuse me?” Mari said. “I’m a unicorn, not a horse.”

“Glad to know you consider yourself cheap enough to be given away for free,” Dia said.

“I’m only free for you,” Mari said.

“In any case,” Kanan interrupted, “it’s time to make this a true funeral.”

Alana was still decapitated. Kanan laid her gently down into the coffin, next to the teddy bear. The atmosphere changed quickly into one that wasn’t sure of itself.

“I never got to tell her this,” Kanan whispered, “but my dream is to go to Hawaii. I want to see the things she saw. I want to hike the volcanic mountains so unlike these ones, spend afternoons on the endless stretches of beach listening to the slack-key guitarists play their tunes, and taste the sweetest pineapples and local cuisine.” It was acting, of course, but it was still unsettling to see Kanan sniffle and wipe at her eyes. “But, most of all, I want to see the quiet beauty beneath the waves. My love will never die.”

The somber mood persisted as Dia, the last to go, took her turn in the hole.

“We follow in footsteps. Not those of giants, nor hallowed gods or anyone greater than our imaginations are capable of. We follow nine girls who were a lot like us. They blazed a new path – one we never knew existed – and now we follow. We shall succeed.” She turned around and looked up at them from the bottom of the hole. The way she was talking, she should have been above them, like a teacher or a priest. Sure, she sounded haughty, but this didn’t detract from the message. Maybe the superiority she spoke with was warranted. Everyone was listening solemnly. “The torch they hold high is shining bright, but at this distance, it is the pitiful, barely present glimmer of a star through overcast clouds and light-years and uncertainty. Yet still, it will not dissuade. We shall succeed. None of us know what to expect – our future is an unknown entity, unfeared – so we temper our expectations. Fame and fortune isn’t for us, but nor is failure. We shall succeed.”

Finally, Dia knelt down in front of the treasure chest. “Wherever we end up, at whatever cost, may we all be happy.”

“Wait,” Chika said, “wait a second. Wait a gosh-darned second! What did you put in the box? We couldn’t see.”

“I know,” Dia said. “Consider it a five-year-long surprise.”

“Waiwaitwaitwaitwait. You – you can’t!” Chika said. “That’s too long!”

“That’s what she said.”

“Mari,” Dia said, “does it sadden you to know you’ve never contributed anything of value to a conversation in your life?”

“I think you’re-” Mari began.

“You can’t!” Chika interrupted. “This isn’t fair! Everybody else’s item was public – I can’t wait _five_ years to figure it out!”

“You were fine waiting five years to read Fahrenheit 451,” Hanamaru said.

“Gah!” Chika said, throwing her hands up. “It’s not like I actually want to read that stupid book.”

Hanamaru sad-zura’d.

“Reading would do you some good,” Yoshiko snapped. “Otherwise you’ll turn out like Mari.”

“Rich and beautiful?” Mari said. “Well, then, you’d better take great care not to ever-”

“I’m sorry!” Chika overrode, reaffirming Mari’s new role as roadkill. “I take it back! You don’t have to wear the fancy panties! _Any_ panties! Just – just lemme see what you put in the box!”

“They’re quite comfortable,” Dia said.

“But they’re super embarrassing,” Chika appealed. “You don’t want to wear them! You’d rather just show us your item of volume less than zero point two five cubic meters with super high personal significance and equivalent to or under twenty five thousand yen in retail value and not food even if it’s a tangerine!”

“You’ve dug your own grave. Suck it up.”

“If I’m going to be buried here I have a right to know! What if I’m allergic to it?”

“You’ll be dead; it won’t matter.”

“You’re the devil!”

Yoshiko tilted her head and squinted but couldn’t quite see it. Maybe the devil’s secretary.

“You might as well bury me now,” Chika continued. “The curiosity will kill me anyways.”

“Key,” Dia said, unperturbed as she held out her open hand.

“I’m not giving it to you!” Chika said, recoiling.

“ _Someone_ needs to hold onto the key for the five years,” Yō observed.

“You can,” Chika said.

“I think not,” Dia said. “She’s too close to you. She’d give you the key in a heartbeat if you asked for it.”

“I would,” Yō agreed.

“You’re not supposed to admit it!” Chika said, herself admitting ulterior motives.

“I think a trustworthy party would be someone such as my sister,” Dia said.

“No way!” Chika argued. “She’s your _sister_ – that’s way worse than a friend!”

“Worse?” Ruby looked overwhelmed. “Can we not phrase it like that?”

“Sorry, Ruby,” Chika said. “But your sister is too dangerous.”

Dia, still waiting in the hole to keep Chika from reopening the treasure chest, said, “The difference here is that I don’t actually want the key for any mischievous business.”

It was amazing how much was at stake when a little mystery was introduced.

“How about Kanan, then?” Yō suggested. “She’s both your friends. A trustworthy middlewoman, no?”

The following two seconds were the quietest it had been in a while. And then:

“I refuse,” Kanan said. “It sounds like a headache.”

“If you all insist, I suppose I can hold on to the key,” Mari offered.

Both Chika and Dia looked at her in disgust.

“It’s joke,” Mari said, dejected.

Before Yoshiko could realize how low they were running on potential keyholders, Chika was looking at her. “Heya, tent partner.”

“That means nothing,” Yoshiko said.

“She _is_ friends with Ruby,” Dia said slowly. “That makes her a candidate only second to Kanan in trustworthiness.”

“I think Kanan is right,” Yoshiko said. “We haven’t even locked the chest and it’s causing a headache.”

“Please, just take the key,” Riko begged.

Yoshiko made it look like she was struggling internally with the decision before finally agreeing. She took the key from Chika and swapped places with Dia in the pit. Locking the box, she observed that it would take about two seconds for an amateur to pick, and no more than two hours to learn. Chika wasn’t liable to find two hours in the next five years to acquire such a skill but Yoshiko might.

“Done,” she said.

Kanan offered her a hand and pulled her out.

The nine of them surrounded the hole and looked down at the treasure. Were they all wondering if they would be together five years from now? Or was that a given? Or too optimistic? Yoshiko had no idea. What made f-wordships die or survive? Probably nothing in Yoshiko’s skillset. It would be up to the others. Yoshiko decided then and there that she would slip the key to Hanamaru later. She would always be around. Somehow, Hanamaru hadn’t come up in the conversation, despite being objectively the best keyholder. Maybe it was because Yoshiko had played too many video games with reliable librarians of ancient, magical libraries holding onto quest items for the adventurer.

“This shovel has gotten a lot of use,” Kanan noted.

“You’re right,” Chika said. “It’s become an important memory for us – let’s bury it!”

“With what?”

“With The Legendary and Amazing Aqours’ Super Duper Special Hidden Mountain Time Capsule of Doom and Destruction, of course.”

“Sorry,” Yoshiko said, “didn’t catch that. With what?”

The glares were worth it as Chika said, “The shovel deserves a spot within the Legendary and Indelibly Amazing Aqours’ Super Duper Special Hidden Mountain Time Capsule of Doom and Destruction, I said!”

“Go ahead, then,” Kanan said, handing over the shovel.

Chika tossed it into the hole next to the treasure chest, brushed her hands off, and stared down at her handiwork.

And stared.

And stared.

And then, slowly like an old game console’s loading screen, she climbed into the hole, retrieved the shovel, and silently handed it up to Kanan.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of guns, explosives, horror stories, and curry. And, despite the lack of alcohol, Dia’s tears, and solitude, Yoshiko thought about all the f-words and what role she had to play in them all, if any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes the mountain arc.


	32. Tetris

After surviving the camping trip, Yoshiko was back in the cult room feeling quite good about herself.

Mari was gone doing director stuff. That was her excuse, at least, but who knew what she was really doing. Probably something not good, because Chika got a text from Mari and excused herself from the room claiming important business. Kanan had left immediately after school because she wanted to help at the diving shop, while Hanamaru was watching the library and Ruby was keeping her company. All that left the cult room quiet. Sitting in front of the newly-installed computer in the corner was Dia. A spreadsheet document for her presidential duties was on-screen and she was thoroughly focused on it.

Riko and Yō were working on a printed out calendar. It was a little tense – according to Ruby they weren’t getting along – but they had both volunteered to look after the schedule. The pace was increasing as Oratorio Live’s preliminary qualifiers approached. _That’s Elephant!_ was registered in at least one tournament a week. On the slower weeks, Yō had made contacts and organized exhibition matches with other teams. In terms of points, they weren’t yet competitive with the top teams, but the calculations said they could be by the time the Endless Company sent invitations out.

“We’re going to photocopy the schedule,” Yō said when their deliberations died down. “It’s complete.”

“Save the paper,” Yoshiko said. “We’ll just snap pictures of the original.”

“You should all have a physical copy of it,” Yō insisted. “Let’s go, Riko.”

Riko nodded and, together, they left the room.

Yoshiko, no longer able to look over their shoulders like she was participating, checked the room. Great. Just her and Dia. And Dia was too absorbed in the spreadsheet – club budgets, it looked like – to realize everyone else had left. Yoshiko would’ve taken the opportunity to sneak out, too, but the thought of Dia eventually looking up and finding herself alone was too pathetic.

Spending time with Aqours was making her weak.

In any case, Yoshiko fished in her book bag and pulled out her secret weapon: an original Game Boy, loaded with the Tetris cartridge. It was perfect to play in class and wouldn’t be a big loss if the teacher caught her and confiscated it. Not that the teachers ever noticed her packing those tetrominoes down tight.

With a notebook on the table and the Game Boy under the table, it looked like she was focused hard on studying.

Though she hadn’t been playing Tetris for long – a couple weeks, now – it was a simple enough game that it became muscle memory and a test of reaction time. This left her mind able to tackle important questions like what exactly was going on with Yō and Riko in the photocopier room, what precisely did Chika hope to accomplish by banning Yō’s salutes, and did Homura _really_ do nothing wrong?

“A Game Boy?” Dia said, puzzled. “That’s an old console.”

Yoshiko jolted. A straight tetromino – the easiest one – went wayside when she banged her arm on the underside of the table. The physical and mental pain killed her a little. But since she was already caught she played on with Dia now standing behind her watching.

“Newer doesn’t mean better,” Yoshiko said.

“No,” Dia said slowly. “I quite agree. But you refused a paper schedule earlier, which is quite a bit older and more reliable than a picture on a cellphone.”

Ha, so she’d been listening? This was awkward. Was Yoshiko supposed to say she didn’t want Yō and Riko to leave them as the only two people in the room in order to avoid a conversation just like this?

“I just thought it would save them time.”

“I see,” Dia said in a way that indicated she saw everything but what Yoshiko had said.

“How’s your budgeting going?”

“The school never had many funds to begin with, yet this year it’s even worse.”

“What about Mari? Can’t her family just throw money at the problem?”

“They already have. We’re subsisting almost entirely off their donations.” There was no lack of conflict in her voice. “But even the Ohara family has its limits, when it comes to philanthropy.”

“Are we on that spreadsheet, now?” Yoshiko asked, sparing a glance at the computer between the falling of tetrominoes.

“Our club isn’t getting any money, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse than you could imagine.” And despite her problems, Dia smiled. It wasn’t that a smile didn’t suit her, but Yoshiko felt privileged to see it. Like a shiny pokemon in the wild. Dia continued, “Well, maybe not as bad as _you_ can imagine, but it’s worse than most people could imagine.”

“And yet here you are, trying to make it work. A Sisyphean task.”

“Indeed.”

Yoshiko, too, was involved in a Sisyphean task. She had never recovered from her earlier blunder, and the Tetris pieces were piling like swiss cheese. Though she fought for each pixel, she kept losing ground, and eventually the pieces piled up until her screen was full and the game ended. With a sigh, she turned the Game Boy off and set it on the table.

“Why do you have a Game Boy?” Dia asked. “Even if newer doesn’t mean better, it rarely means worse. And I’ve seen you with your laptop in the library before. Surely that has a wider selection of games.”

“Something my father passed down to me. He does that with a lot of his older electronics.”

“Ah, I know what you mean,” Dia said, nodding. “My father gives me a lot of old things, and I appreciate it and all, but I just don’t have a use for bamboo _tenkara_ rods and Yamaha P-3 outboard motors from the sixties, and I’ve nowhere to put it all.”

“The Kurosawa family, huh. Did you ever get training as an _ama_?”

“A pearl diver?” Dia made a complicated expression. “I wasn’t that kind of girl. Besides, our family stopped the tradition generations ago.”

“You and Ruby could restart it,” Yoshiko said. “You have the body type for it. And Kanan could train you.”

Dia raised a brow. “Just how much do you know about diving?”

“Nothing,” Yoshiko said. But the thought of _ama_ sisters was too damn cool. “Beyond a documentary I saw last year. I was just thinking aloud.”

“As tempting as the thought is, we need to focus on Endless Oratorio. We’ve taken on a great challenge, and nothing but our utmost best will leave us satisfied with the end result.”

“This is the second time, for you, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

Was Yoshiko treading dangerous waters? Still, she said, “Were you satisfied, last time?”

“No.”

Yoshiko waited for elaboration but didn’t get any. “I looked into your old team’s history,” she tried. “Your last tournament was a forfeit before the semi-finals. What happened?”

Dia picked up the Game Boy and powered it back on. At first, Yoshiko thought she was going to hand it over, as a way of telling Yoshiko the conversation was over, but instead she sat down and began playing. She picked level nine, and Yoshiko realized maybe the conversation _was_ over. There were only five buttons necessary to play the game effectively, and by far Dia’s favourite was the down arrow to speed up the falling blocks. Her thumbs didn’t need to move far, but they were swift when they did move. And she pressed the buttons so gently as opposed to how Yoshiko had been playing. It was like she was coaxing the pieces down to where they needed to go, instead of commanding them.

It was methodical and emotionless.

Yet somehow still beautiful.

Dia refused to put any pieces such that they occupied the rightmost column and was instead building up a perfect wall with that frustratingly apparent gap on the side.

“The maximum points that can be scored at once is twelve thousand,” Dia said. “It’s done by clearing four lines simultaneously on level nine or higher. The move is called a Tetris, and it’s what they named the game after.”

A straight piece finally appeared and she slotted it down on the right. Four lines flashed and disappeared, and the rest of the blocks fell down to occupy the empty space. Watching it was supremely satisfying. Dia maxed out to level twenty – the fastest speed for the falling blocks – and from there Yoshiko started to just watch the score continue to rise. Eventually, Dia stopped playing and the pieces stacked lackadaisically in the center until it was game over.

“You sure know a lot about Tetris,” Yoshiko noted.

“That much is common sense. It is, after all, the second best selling video game franchise of all time.”

Was... was that supposed to be a jab? Because now Yoshiko felt ashamed. Some games just slipped through the cracks in her knowledge base; Tetris, aptly, was one of those.

“A lesser known fact,” Dia continued, “is that it was actually made by a Russian software engineer. The Americans and Japanese otherwise dominate the video game charts.”

Was Dia proud of the Russian? Yoshiko couldn’t really tell, and it seemed a lot like Chika and her small tangerine so it was better to leave alone.

“I had a Game Boy,” Dia added. “Grew up playing it. So I’m familiar with Tetris.”

Familiar? That was a bit of an understatement.

Dia continued, “Have you ever played multiplayer Tetris?”

“No.”

“We should, some time. I can bring the link cable.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Dia handed the Game Boy back and returned to the computer and the spreadsheet, where she once again resumed her work. Yoshiko didn’t want to play Tetris at the moment – she was experiencing something akin to shock – and missed Dia saying something.

“Sorry,” Yoshiko said, “what was that?”

“Ruby. I was asking about Ruby. I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”

“... Yeah?”

“And it keeps coming back to one person. Mari doesn’t swear in front of Ruby. But there’s one person who could and I would never know about it. So now I will ask you bluntly, and I expect you to be equally forthcoming in your response: did you teach Ruby such profanity?”

Yoshiko sighed audibly. It was long and drawn out and meant to buy her time because she was sweating and looked guilty even though she wasn’t sure she _was_ guilty. Thankfully, Dia’s eyes remained on the computer screen.

“I understand why you’d suspect me,” Yohane began, “but nonetheless I’m insulted. Ruby is a valuable acquaintance of mine, and I would never wrong her in any way. So to answer your question, no, I did not teach Ruby profanity.”

What followed was a long one-second silence where Yoshiko eyed the exit and tensed her muscles.

“I see,” Dia said. “I apologize for blaming you. I know you always act in Ruby’s best interests. And in this case, it _would_ be in her best interests for me to know who corrupted her. Even if it wasn’t you, I imagine you would have _some_ idea.”

“I’m surprised by your confidence in Mari.”

“Mari is crass, but not in that way.”

“True.” Yoshiko paused. Well, she made it this far, right? “Alright, I’ll tell you. I feel it’s not my place, but maybe I’m just being lazy trying not to get involved – you’re her sister; you have a right to know. Recently, Ruby has been spending a lot of time with two girls online. Their names are Leah and Sarah – they’re sisters – and, to put it mildly, they’ve got potty mouths. They’re a part of a team we might see at Oratorio Live: Saint Snow. They’re quite good at the game, trash-talking, and brainwashing. I fear Ruby has spent too long around them that she’s fallen victim to their ways.”

There was literally no downside to this that Yoshiko could see.

And so that moment continued to echo into the future.

Dia nodded thoughtfully, but before she could say anything, the door opened. Yō and Riko had returned. Their problems looked quite unfixed, as they hardly acknowledged each other and sat at opposite ends of the table.

“Chika texted me,” Yō said eventually. “She and Mari will be here in a minute. They want us to be ready.”

“For?”

“I’m not sure.”

“And the schedule?” Yoshiko prompted.

“The photocopier wasn’t working.”

It was an old thing. Not surprising.

“Out of paper or toner?” Yoshiko hoped.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine. I’ll check it out before I leave today.”

“It’s not necessary. Like you said: we can take pictures of the original.”

“Someone needs to look at the photocopier eventually. They’re finnicky things and the school has no budget to replace them, so if they need to call in a repairman, the sooner the better.”

“She said it wasn’t necessary,” Riko said.

“Fine,” Yoshiko growled. It’s not like she needed their permission to do it, anyways.

Chika and Mari returned before Yoshiko’s mood could foul any more from Riko’s rebuff.

“We have an important announcement to make,” Chika said.

She and Mari were holding hands and looking nervous. Probably because they were about to upset a lot of people.

“We should wait for Kanan,” Yoshiko said quickly, because she would be the only one capable of defusing the situation.

“If it’s important, we should hear it now,” Yō said.

“Agreed.” Dia had shut off the computer and was giving them her full attention.

“I wanted to preface this with something,” Mari said. She lacked the usual confidence. “Me and Chika have been talking about this for a while now. We’ve kept it a secret from everyone for so long, but we can’t any longer. It’s too important to us.”

“That’s right,” Chika nodded.

They shared an uncertain smile.

At around that point, Yoshiko considered walking out of the room. But, for better or worse, she stayed a little longer.


	33. Photocopier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor update to tags as the midgame begins to solidify.

Yes, Mari was framing it like they were getting engaged. No, Mari and Chika were not getting engaged. Anyone who thought that – even in passing – was a complete idiot.

“Time is running out,” Mari said. “We’ve been given the date for the school’s closing.”

Oh, right. That was a thing. Yoshiko could vaguely remember such a plot line.

“But we won’t give up!” Chika said.

“I’ve negotiated with my father,” Mari added, “and if we can raise enough interest at the open house, the school will stay open.”

“Enough?” Dia said. “What qualifies as enough?”

“A hundred new students.”

That was near impossible. Everyone seemed to agree, as they were equally silent.

“Smile, guys,” Chika said. “Our victory is in sight!”

Dia sighed. “It doesn’t look good, but at least we have a metric.”

“That’s my Dia!” Mari exclaimed.

“I’m nobody’s.”

“Don’t worry,” Mari said. “You’ll always be a somebody to me.”

Dia pointedly ignored her.

“Not everyone is here,” Chika said, “but we need to start thinking about how to raise interest. Of course, Aqours winning Oratorio Live will go a long ways!”

Winning was looking too far ahead. There were steps involved. The benefits of increasing Aqours’ popularity were two-fold. If they passed the preliminaries, their popularity – determined by votes – would directly affect their seeding into the round of eight. Depending on other factors, it could even get them a bye into the quarters.

Chika didn’t like discussing battle strategies, but strategies to become popular she loved. Their discussion continued late into the afternoon. Hanamaru and Ruby arrived once the library closed, so the only member missing was Kanan, but they kept in touch with her via texts. At some point, Kanan stopped responding to Mari’s texts, so Dia had to take over the communications, and from there it ran smoothly. Fortunately, Mari had a copy of the school’s keys, so even after all the clubs had ended and students and staff left, they remained in the cult room brainstorming.

Distractions were mostly food-oriented and well-controlled. Dia and Ruby tag-teamed to shift the conversation towards how their fighting would be affected, and through this they even managed to get rare Chika-insight into battle theory. It was of no use to normal people.

When they wrapped up the meeting, everyone was eager to get home and left quickly.

The school was empty, just the way Yoshiko liked it. After letting the others go ahead, she went directly to the photocopier room. It was a small, windowless room with a ceiling tile missing and wiring and pipes running around the walls like a game of snake. The Canon photocopier in the corner was older than her parents. It had no electronic display, and few green lights, but she was able to grab a scrap paper from the recycle bin nearby and photocopied it. The ink wasn’t faded and there was no question about there being sufficient paper. All in all, no problem with the photocopier. Yoshiko regretted calling it finnicky. Old technology was beautiful.

“I told you not to.”

Yoshiko spun around.

There was Yō, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Nobody will hear my screams, huh?” Yoshiko said, her only escape blocked.

“It’s not like that,” Yō said, stepping aside. “You can leave if you want.”

“I’m kidding,” Yoshiko said. “Or, at least, I am if you’ve come here to give me answers.”

“Sorry. Only questions.”

“A shame.” Yoshiko glanced at the photocopier. There was nothing for her, here. “If you’ll excuse me, then, I have some laddering to do this evening.”

Yō twitched like she was going to do something when Yoshiko passed her, but ultimately didn’t, and Yoshiko was out of the stuffy room and walking down the hallway, wondering if she would match up against Sarah or anyone else who would give her trouble tonight.

“I’m in love!”

Yoshiko stopped.

She was so, so, _so_ close to ignoring the words Yō had shouted down the empty hallway. But damn if she wasn’t curious. And they both knew that Yoshiko was incapable of giving love advice, which made it even more interesting. What did Yō hope to accomplish with the confession? Maybe there _were_ answers, here. Yoshiko duly returned to the photocopier room.

“Okay, _what_?” she demanded.

“I’m in love with Chika.”

It was necessary to go on the offense; Yō’s earnestness indicated she had some kind of plan.

“That’s gay.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

“Uh, well, yes-”

Yoshiko asked, “Are you two dating?”

“What? No!” Yō said. “That’s... that’s impossible.”

“Acquaintances with benefits?”

“N-no!”

She’d said it intending to get a blush out of Yō, and it was successful. Now that Yō was knocked off balance, the real questioning could begin.

“What did you want out of me?” Yoshiko asked. “It sounds like you’re quite capable of having this conversation with, say, Chika herself.”

“Ruby told you nothing?”

“So this is about Riko?”

“No... well, yes. But no – it’s just... she’s in the way.”

Yoshiko didn’t even need to ask. Now that it had been said aloud, it was obvious. Even if Riko wasn’t a romantic obstacle, she was a physical and mental one. Chika and Riko were as close as two new acquaintances could be. Like two 3200Mhz sticks of ram running in dual channel mode, and Yō was that yucky third stick. It would be, in her eyes, the worst time to confess.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Yoshiko said. “I’m not the assassin – Ruby is. And I don’t think she kills in real life, either. I haven’t ruled it out, but I’d label it as ‘unlikely’.”

“That’s not-” Yō started, before groaning. “I want to be Riko’s friend. I’m _trying_. But – but it’s hard. I’ve known Chika for so much longer... I can’t help it. I’m jealous.”

“Ah, the green-eyed monster roars its ugly head,” Yoshiko said.

Yō frowned.

At least Hanamaru could appreciate Shakespeare. “In any case,” Yoshiko said, “my condolences.”

“Huh?”

“Love sucks. Broken hearts are worse. Probably. You’ll get over it given enough time, though.”

“Hold on,” Yō said. “You’re acting like, like me and her... like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

Yoshiko hummed.

“What if – couldn’t it work?” Yō begged, forgetting who she was talking to. “Couldn’t I make it work? Somehow?”

“I mean, you’re her childhood acquaintance, aren’t you? That’s an automatic loss. Especially when pitted against a transfer student.”

“They aren’t like that! And my problem with Riko isn’t even the biggest problem I have.”

Were they getting closer to the reason behind this conversation? Or was this headache just growing for no reason at all?

“Right now,” Yō continued, “I’m no good for Chika. She’s – she’s amazing.”

“Anyone would say that about their crush. So trust the outsider: no, she’s not.”

“She is,” Yō insisted. “You don’t know her like I do. I’ve always been at her side – or at least, whenever I could be. But lately, I’ve realized I’m not good enough for her. She deserves better, so I want to become better.”

“Or you could give her up to Riko.”

“I already said they aren’t like that!”

Yoshiko kinda wanted to argue it just to get a rise out of Yō. Or something. It was enjoyable. But it was getting late and she also wanted to go home. Spending this long at school was unhealthy, and as a pro gamer, she needed to pay close attention to her mental health.

“If you insist,” Yoshiko said.

“Good.” Yō seemed happy, like the conversation was progressing according to her plan, despite Yoshiko’s best efforts. “Then what class do you think Aqours needs? I’ve completed all the quests to respec and I have the item. I can start as soon as tomorrow.”

And, wait, “ _What?_ ”

“I’m prepared for this. If I want Chika to appreciate me, I need to do better. I need to prove to her that she can rely on me. Obviously I can’t do that as a stupid archer.”

“Here’s an idea,” Yoshiko said. “Shoot her in the knee with an arrow. Then she’ll be crippled and will have to rely on you.”

“That’s enough from you, Kyouko.”

“Fine.”

But since her senior was asking her for an Endless Oratorio opinion, Yoshiko gave it a serious thought. They had a clearly defined front-line and back-line. Their forms of damage were varied, and they had sufficient CC and other supporting spells. Yō wanted to be the solution to a nonexistent problem.

“No,” Yoshiko said. “Our composition is fine. If I had to have some kind of complaint, it would be a lack of pure tank, but that’s a stretch. It’s manageable without. Why do you think you can’t become better as an archer?”

“Better for Chika,” Yō corrected.

“You’ve lost me. Are you thinking Chika will fall in love with you if you change classes to become more useful to her?”

“I know it’s not that easy.”

“It’s impossible. If being useful to Chika is what you want, then you’ll never be the best in that regard. Riko has, hands down, the most important class.”

Yō looked at her like somehow Yoshiko could solve the problem. It was uncomfortable. What was Yoshiko supposed to say? Yō was a much stronger girl than Yoshiko. This was all wrong.

“I’m going to be left behind,” Yō pleaded.

“No you’re not. You’re a key player on the team.”

“I’m no good.”

“I’ve seen ‘no good.’ You’re fine. Hanamaru is the one who’s shit at the game.”

Yō gasped, forgetting her own plight. “How could you say such a thing about a friend?”

“Whoa,” Yoshiko said. “Calm down. Don’t call her an f-word. That’s overreacting.”

“Is it?”

“She’s just an acquaintance. It’s great that you’re getting upset on someone else’s behalf – very selfless and all – but choose someone else to do it over. Hanamaru trusts me not to sugarcoat things.” That trust went both ways. Yoshiko needed someone to keep her grounded in reality. “It’s nonpartisan input. You could use that, too. Which is what I was offering earlier: you’re not shit at the game. You don’t need to switch classes. And Chika’s approval, or whatever it is you want, can be gotten in other ways.”

“Money usually works,” Mari said, stepping into the already-too-small room.

“Crap,” Yoshiko said, because it looked like Yō was too stunned to voice how absolutely shitty this development was.

“Relax,” Mari said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Uh huh,” Yoshiko answered, because there were lies, damned lies, and Mari’s lies.

“How are you here?” Yō finally asked. “I watched from the window to make sure everyone left the school grounds.”

“I forgot some paperwork,” Mari said. “Also I have a secret tryst with one of the teachers. We meet in the clubroom and do it on the table. Once, she forgot her panties there – can you believe it? Anyhoo, that’s how I overheard your beautiful confession – aimed at the wrong person, though.”

Yoshiko frowned. If Dia hadn’t already claimed ownership of the panties, it would have been a convincing story. Mari was scary.

“Did – did anyone else hear?” Yō said.

“Are you worried about Chika knowing?” Mari said.

Yō pulled out her phone like she was going to text Chika.

“Relax,” Mari said.

“You say that a lot,” Yoshiko said, “but I don’t think it has the effect on people that you think it does.”

“The effect I have on people is inexpressible.”

“I think-”

“You think a lot. You think you’re cool, you think you’re beautiful, you think you know everything,” Mari said without smiling. “But you’re really just an annoying, egotistical first-year who isn’t nearly all that. And now you’re going to walk away now and let the grown-ups talk.”

“Mari,” Yō admonished.

“It’s joke!”

Like hell that was a joke. Had Mari ever looked so serious before? Yoshiko bit her tongue to hold back Yohane. The only dignified way out was to say nothing. Because Mari was right.

Yoshiko walked away.


	34. Bus, Cooking, Piano

Yoshiko was still fuming over Mari’s words when the late bus arrived. She got on, mumbled an ‘afternoon’ to the bus driver, and sought the furthest seat in the back. Only a scattering of the seats were occupied by those heading into Numazu for some late night shopping. To distract herself, she pulled out her Game Boy and settled in for the long ride. Yet the bus didn’t leave right away. The driver was waiting for one last person. When they got on, the bus finally lurched into motion.

Unlike the photocopier room, there was no escape. Yō sat down next to her.

“Yo,” Yō said. “Almost didn’t catch you.”

“The bus, you mean.”

“ _You_.”

Out of the second and third-years in _That’s Elephant!_ , she had spent the most time with Yō. Mainly because of the shared bus ride into Numazu City, but, still, they managed decent conversations, which put Yō on a very short list. In fact, Yō was pretty, athletic, and popular enough that Yoshiko felt uncomfortably like a normie when they spoke. Hopefully people didn’t get the wrong idea, seeing the two of them together.

“I thought we were done talking,” Yoshiko said, putting the Game Boy away anyways.

“That was Mari’s decision, not mine.”

“Was that her only decision, or did she decide anything else for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.”

“I’m going to confess to Chika. But not right away. I need your help with something, first.”

And here it was. More inconvenience. She should head it off.

Yoshiko said, “I don’t know if I can approve of a relationship in the team. If something goes wrong, it’ll threaten the entire team dynamic.”

“That sounds like Dia.”

“That sounds border-line hypocritical for her. And can we please not talk about the third-years? They give me a headache.”

“I’m serious about Chika.”

“Uh huh...”

“But she’s never serious about me. She doesn’t think about me – I’m always here but not worth acknowledging, like an old accessory she carries around out of habit.”

“Okay.”

“So I need to remind her I’m not an accessory, I’m not an NPC, I’m not stale. You know about the Hyllish dragon, right? Recently, she lost something important to it. I’m going to get it back. That’s where I need your help. I’ve already recruited Hanamaru and Ruby, and found the dragon’s location.”

Yoshiko kept an impassive face, but her insides did a somersault and landed quite badly.

_The Hyllish dragon_. This was treading dangerous ground. Yoshiko wanted the dragon dead more than anyone in the world. As if all her misgivings would die with it. It was serendipitous that Yō wanted the same thing.

Her problem with the dragon wasn't with the all-powerful Osmund’s Ruby that it had stolen from the kingdom – Yoshiko had no desire to acquire it. If she wanted to rule over the Kingdom of Choir, she would do it illegitimately and the world’s ire would be delicious. Nor did she want the fame or XP or materials from killing the dragon. Those things were of no import to one not bound to the mortal coil. She just wanted the dragon gone. She wanted people to stop talking about it, _thinking_ about it, and remembering its existence. This desire, born out of fear or cowardice, had seemed so far-fetched minutes ago. Yet without Yoshiko’s knowledge, Yō had been laying the groundwork for it.

By the time Yoshiko tuned back into the conversation, Yō had finished telling some kind of story involving bronze and bread. Yoshiko wasn’t really sure how the food came into play, but nodded anyways.

"I can't offer you much," Yō said, "but, still, will you help me?"

There was no way Yoshiko could refuse. If they were attacking the dragon, she needed to do everything in her power to help it succeed. “Fine. I’ll help you, but not for any reason other than us being teammates.”

“Teammates?” Yō said, before tapping her chin and humming. “So would you help Mari, then?”

So much for not talking about the third-years. “She’s not the kind of person who asks for help,” Yoshiko said.

Yō hummed in agreement.

“She’s the kind who creates the problems. Like I said: headaches.”

“I’m not going to tell you what we talked about,” Yō said.

“Didn’t ask you and don’t wanna know.”

The bus turned the corner and whether by accident or not, Yō leaned into her. “I guess you and Mari have some things in common.”

“I resent that.”

“Doesn’t make it untrue.”

“In what way is it not?”

“You wouldn’t ask for help if you needed it.”

“I’m better than that,” Yoshiko said. “And if I ever, by some miracle, do have a problem, it wouldn’t be something an acquaintance from school could help with.”

“What about a teammate?”

Yoshiko shook her head.

“I don’t get you. You’re worried about the team dynamic, and you’re helping me ‘because we’re teammates,’ but you won’t rely on us. Why did you join the team? What do you get out of it? You’ve said it yourself: it’s really not your thing.”

“Right,” Yoshiko said, remembering. She had told Ruby and Hanamaru, but Yō and the third-years didn’t know. “You weren’t around when I joined. It’s not a permanent deal. I told Chika when I joined – this is temporary."

“You’re going to leave?”

“Eventually. I just... wanted to see if it was fun.”

“And?”

“If I had the answer, I wouldn’t still be here, would I?”

“I don’t want to put words in everyone else’s mouths, but we’re all having fun.”

“You sure you’re not mistaking fun for novelty? And then what’ll you do when that novelty wears off? I’m looking for something more fundamental. A ‘true’ fun, if you would.”

“What does that even mean?” Yō said.

“Hell if I know.”

“Hmm. Maybe it’s the same thing that Chika’s looking for.”

“She’s chasing an end state. A shine. Is shine a fun, or a satisfaction?”

“Oh,” Yō said, perking up. “I get it. You want something _genuine._ ”

“Shuddup.”

“I understand. It’s a fun that can’t be expressed by a single word.”

“I’m’a kill you.”

Yō laughed. “Why can’t you just admit what we’re doing is fun?”

“Because it isn’t,” Yoshiko said. She was just about sick of the conversation. Pivot time. “You know what would be fun? Learning how to cook.”

“... I can teach you.”

“What?”

“Come over for supper today. I’m cooking. You can help.”

That sounded like a terrible idea.

“Okay,” Yoshiko said.

* * *

It took five minutes and Yoshiko’s most compelling rhetoric to convince Yō to put on the disgustingly ugly orange apron. If Yoshiko had refrained from laughing, she could have done it in half the time. For herself, a respectable black apron. It was a little too long and heavy, but if she was going to be around hot things that was the way she wanted it.

Under Yō’s instructions, they began prepping the food. It would be lamb stir-fry, which meant lots of vegetables to cut.

“I’ll do the meat,” Yoshiko offered.

“You already know how.”

“Exactly.”

“Then you’re not learning anything.”

“I have a sudden desire for good food over education.”

“That’s not saying much. You choose a Game Boy over education.”

“Quit hating on boys. Not all of us can be gay.”

“Yes, okay, now here.” Yō passed a lot of unnameable green things to her to cut. And then even though she had said she wouldn’t, she said, “Mari suggested something.”

“What?”

“That I play an illusionist.”

“That’s what she plays.”

Yō nodded. She pushed her diced tomatoes to a corner of the cutting board and then set her knife aside.

“Sorry, you’ve lost me,” Yoshiko said.

“She suggested we swap accounts.”

“Account sharing is ban-worthy.”

Again, Yō nodded. She knew it, but was still considering the possibility.

So Yoshiko said, “Did it not occur to you that Mari was lying, and just wanted to tease you?”

“That’s not it, I don’t think. It didn’t sound like a favour to me. _She_ wanted to swap.”

“Why would she want to play an archer? No offense to you,” Yoshiko added quickly.

“Sounded more like she doesn’t want to play illusionist.”

The complex, chaotic mess that illusionists dealt with was a perfect match for Mari, and a far cry from what Yō would want. Swapping would hurt both of them. It didn’t make any sense.

“I recommend you don’t listen to her,” Yoshiko said. “Even if she does say something resembling reason and approaching logic, don’t trust it.”

“She was rude today so you’re upset at her.”

“For the third time: the third-years are a headache.”

“They have experience.”

“In all the wrong things. If we’re talking about Endless, listen to me. Don’t change classes. Don’t compare yourself to others. Don’t do the side quest where you give the Loch Ness monster three dollars and fifty cents because then he’ll keep coming back for more and it’s, well, endless. You’re good enough, but you’ll never be the best. Accept that and be happy with it, and focus on the team.”

“Never thought I would hear you say that.”

“I’m sure as hell not going to focus on the team, so let’s make sure at least some of us do, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Yoshiko could feel the ‘but’ coming like a thousand spiders crawling up her legs. And, sure, she could have shaken some off, but at least one was guaranteed to crawl into her ear.

“... But what about Chika? Would you give the same advice to her, if she wanted to change classes? Would you tell her she’s never going to be the best? Or – or is this just to shut me up?”

“‘I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was.’”

“Chika was singing that.”

“Badly.”

“She’s a good singer-”

“But there’s some logic in there. ‘Like no one ever was.’ Nobody is the very best. There’s always higher, greater, better. Stronger, taller, faster. Cooler, prettier, smarter... You’re only setting yourself up for failure, if you think you’re special enough to be the exception.” Riko might have been an exception, when it came to piano, but nobody else was. Not even Yohane. Though she’d never admit it. “It’s unhealthy. And people don’t pay enough mind to their mental health in competitive Endless. If you do, then that’s one advantage you have over your opponent. Trying not to be the best won’t make you the best, but it’ll make you better.”

“That conclusion is pretty twisted logic. I think there are a lot of people who would disagree with you.”

“But they aren’t here now, are they? So you only have me to listen to. Me and my _beautifully_ twisted logic.”

“At least you don’t deny it. Now, taste test,” Yō said, holding out a spoonful of fried eggplant. It was a distraction, but, also, food. Maybe Hanamaru was rubbing off on her.

Yoshiko accepted the offer, and an idea spawned from the depths of hell. “If you want Chika to love you, why don’t you just cook for her?” she said.

“It’s not that good,” Yō said, though she looked quite pleased.

Yoshiko hadn’t meant it as a compliment, and said, “No, but there’s that saying: ‘the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

“Chika’s not a guy.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” Yō said, watching the eggplant in the pan very closely.

“Okay, now say it again with more eye contact and less visualizing.”

“I regret telling you.”

“Obviously. But fear not; me and regret go hand-in-hand. In fact, regret proposed to me. I’m still mulling it over.”

“There’s no healthier relationship,” Yō advised. “Go for it.”

“Commitment isn’t my style.” Yoshiko cleared her throat. “Seriously, though, who else can I tease? Ruby and Hanamaru don’t have crushes. Hanamaru is as boring as a book and showing interest in Ruby is tantamount to suicide – I don’t think any guy is brave enough to look at her any longer than they look at the sun.”

“You don’t need to tease anyone.”

“It’s fun.”

“I see. More in common with a certain third year.”

“I’ve figured it out!” Yoshiko said, wanting to flip two or three tables. She wondered if she hated Mari, for the money if nothing else. “Teasing is the _genuine_ fun I’ve been looking for.”

Yō groaned. “At least tell me you’re leaving the team then.”

“Not leaving until I’m married. Now, back to you and your gayness.”

“You’re acting like it’s a big thing.”

“Chika isn’t a guy. She’s got these nice, shapely boobs and carefully trimmed-”

“I’m not going to feed you.”

“Okay, okay. You don’t need to think about how, probably right about now, she’s undressing, pouring hot water down her lithe back, and slipping into the tub, groaning in pleasure as the warmth of the water envelops her entirety. She sighs as she pulls in the bubbles to cover her chest and then she lowers an arm under the water and trails a finger up her leg-”

“You have to stop crying when you’re doing that. It’s weirding me out.”

“Intent achieved,” Yoshiko said, wiping the wetness away with the back of her wrist. “Would you rather Chika cut the onions? Invite her over? And you could wrap her in a hug from behind, whispering reassurances in her ear while sneaking sniffs of her tangerine-scented shampoo?”

“I think you’re running out of ammo. Or I’m growing immune.”

“Did I mention the apron? And _only_ the apron?”

Yō’s mouth was open but not making sound.

“Now,” Yoshiko said, relishing in her victory, “back to your food. The food plan is bound to work. She’s not a guy; she’s even easier.”

“I’ve cooked for her before.”

“Casually, sure. But surprise her with a fancy lunch, or something. Y’know – food made with love. That kind of shit. You could even use tangerines as an ingredient.” The idea from hell was starting to take shape. Wings unfurled and cast a shadow over the kitchen. “That would start you on the right foot.”

“I don’t know.”

But Yoshiko was already on the move. She grabbed a tangerine from the fruit bowl.

“What are you doing?” Yō asked.

“Sharpest knife,” Yoshiko said, holding out her hand.

Yō complied.

Like a surgeon in a terrible hospital drama that her mother always left playing on TV, Yoshiko made an incision into the tangerine. And then she began peeling back the skin, carefully as to not break it. Yō was watching over her shoulder with bated breath. Whenever a piece was about to rip off, Yoshiko brought the knife in to assist, until the tangerine was striped naked except for the bottom, where the skin was still connected and pooled in a single piece, like a skirt dropped. Probably Chika’s as she stepped into the tub.

Yoshiko dislike of tangerines inspired her to take the art project a step further. With the knife, she stabbed it a few times.

“Here,” she said, quickly handing it over.

“It’s dripping,” Yō complained.

“I know. Just give me a second,” Yoshiko said, taking out her phone. “Okay, hold it out and up.”

“Like this?”

“Higher. Like you’re offering it to the light.”

“Here?”

“Good.”

As much as Yoshiko scoffed at the arts, maybe she had some hidden talent for it. Yō’s blindingly bright orange apron clashed with her blue shirt, and Yoshiko made sure to angle it so the short sleeves of her shirt didn’t sleeve all that much. She was holding the tangerine in the palm of her hand high above her head, so the juices dripped down her arm to her elbow and lower.

Yoshiko was more messed up than she’d thought, because there was no way peeled fruits could be this erotic.

“Title of my light novel,” Yoshiko muttered to herself.

“Hmm?”

“Quit it with that complicated expression. Now give me a salute with your other hand. Good. And: smile.”

After the flash of the phone, Yō slumped over. “I feel dirty,” she said, wiping the sticky juices off her arm. “Why did you want that picture?”

“Not me. Chika. Probably.”

“W-what? Chika? Why would Chika want it?”

“Hell if I know.” But Chika did say something about freezing time to look at Yō’s salute forever, and that had to mean a picture, right? Not that Chika would be lacking pictures of her best friend. And, hold on, now that Yoshiko thought about it, maybe Yō’s immature, misguided crush on her best friend wasn’t so hopeless.

“I don’t think I want Chika to have it. She’ll think I’m a weirdo.”

“Too late and too late,” Yoshiko said, tapping at her phone. “Don’t worry; I made sure to detail how juicy it was.”

“I hate you.”

“Thanks. For inviting me over, too.”

* * *

Yoshiko – the devil within forgive her – went to school early.

Aqours’ goal was, superficially, to save the school, but the number of times Chika had spoken about shining, as a metaphor for something that Yoshiko had never really looked into because it might blind her, hinted at the truth. Weren’t they just a ragtag team of girls who wanted the best out of their high school years? A good fight against a good enemy – whether they won or lost – would do that, because it was human nature to seek conflict. Fights were memorable, and good fights were something they wouldn’t be able to regret. Good fights would satisfy.

But it couldn’t be a good fight, in their current state. Yō was suffering from some sort of self-confidence issues and the accompanying teenage angst and Riko would fight alongside them but it would never be a good memory if she couldn’t hear those sounds when she recalled these days. So those problems were Yoshiko’s new focus. Ironically, these were the types of problems she was least equipped to deal with. If a computer didn’t boot up, she could take it apart and fix or replace the faulty piece, no problem, or if some software decided it was in control, she could hunt down an open source gimpy version, but humans were a headache.

So to understand Riko’s problem, Yoshiko snuck into the school early one morning and, with sheets of a foreign language clutched in her hands and furtive backwards glances, made it up to the empty clubroom.

Opening the blinds brightened the room and helped her unrelax.

Music was intimidating. She didn’t understand it, beyond being able to hear some song and decide it was worth a second listen. She was incapable of forming further opinions, and she wanted that to change. Aqours couldn’t help Riko if none of them understood music.

Yoshiko set the music sheets on the stand above the piano and then put her phone there too and opened up a video explaining all the weird and fancy names of all the keys. Logically, it couldn’t be that hard, right? Video games had keyboards and lots of buttons, too. Maybe this was her reward for playing all those rhythm games – the skills would transfer over into piano playing. And, actually, that would explain how Riko was still a capable player despite playing handicapped.

With a good half hour left before she needed to be in her morning class, she set to work.

* * *

“What are you doing?”

Yoshiko abandoned the piano with the intention of grabbing her phone to stop the video, but in her rush, she instead knocked it to the ground. She scrambled off the bench and down to her phone to pause the tutorial and then finally looked up to see Riko standing over her with an alarmed expression.

“I’m sorry,” Riko said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare? Whatever could you mean?” Yoshiko stood and brushed off her skirt. “Such a word is not in my dictionary.”

“You were...” Riko motioned at the piano, “the piano.”

Ouch. Riko wouldn’t even call it playing.

“Just fooling around,” Yoshiko said.

“Why are you at school so early?”

Yoshiko grit her teeth. “I said, just fooling around.”

“You could have signed up for music class,” Riko said. “Or there’s an after school music club. And this piano is never in use after school, anyway. I don’t understand why, when you stay up as late as you do, you’d wake up early to-”

“I bet you were playing Beethoven from the first time you sat at a piano, as a little kid, weren’t you?”

“What?”

“And – and sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to have your ears.”

Riko covered an ear like it was in danger of being kidnapped. She passed the motion off as brushing hair behind her ear. “I don’t get it.”

“The sounds are the same, but what do you hear? What kind of world is it – what difference is there, between us? I hear a sound and, maybe, at the most, think, ‘oh, this is nice.’ But you-” Yoshiko pressed a random key and shot an inquisitive look to Riko.

“F sharp,” Riko said.

“It’s an entirely different language.” Yoshiko grimaced down at the keys. “I read the Wikipedia page – or tried to – and realized that. So I thought it wouldn’t hurt to learn a bit. Oh, and, fun fact: back in elementary school I once pressed a key on the piano in class and was bullied because it made such an ugly sound, and since then I’ve never touched an instrument. So you could say we both have trauma.”

Riko smiled pitifully.

“Hey, which one is C♯?” Yoshiko said.

Riko reached over and pressed a key. “This one.”

Yoshiko repeated the key a couple times. If she did it enough would she be able to tell it apart from the others? At least she could tell it apart from Java.

“My favourite,” Yoshiko said.

“You have a favourite?” Riko said, amused.

“Of course. You don’t?”

“No.”

“Amateur.”

Riko flipped through a few pages of the song and then giggled. “Couldn’t you have started with something easier?”

“Nobody wants to start with ‘hello world’ – they want to automate their spreadsheets or publish websites or hack their childhood bullies. That’s what motivates people to start. They need a goal. This is my goal.”

“Hello, world?” Riko said, tilting her head a little.

Yoshiko grinned. “Hello, Lily.”

“Hello, Yohane.” Riko sat down at the piano and flipped back to the first page. “It goes something like this.”

She played and Yoshiko listened.

From the first note, Yoshiko was enraptured. It sounded better than any online source she had listened to. But it was too hard to concentrate on the sounds, when there was the majestic piano, the beautiful girl, and that constant fear of someone like Chika bursting into the room complaining about chickens. All too soon, before she could even think to record it on her phone to rewatch every day for the foreseeable future, the song ended.

Riko looked over her shoulder – certainly not for approval because she had to know how amazing she was – and gosh was she pretty in the morning sunlight. With the intention of reducing future competition, Yoshiko added Riko to the growing list of acquaintances never to go to a mixer with. But, honestly, everyone in Aqours was both exceptional at Endless and above average in attractiveness. And most had good personalities, too.

At least Yō would never be competition.

“You, uh, you know that song is from Endless, right?” Yoshiko said.

Riko blinked. “Is it?”

“It is.”

“I’ve never heard it before.”

“Oh. That’s fine, then?” Yoshiko said.

“I didn’t mind it, so I suppose it is.”

That was a useful bit of info. “Can – can you play it again?”

“I can.”

And she did. And, this time, knowing the sound wasn’t going to stutter or stop or be defiled by chickens, Yoshiko closed her eyes. No longer was there the desire to capture it on video, because she knew if she ever asked Riko would play it again for her.

There, in the darkness with her mind and memories, Yoshiko saw a old world new, with strangers becoming allies and enemies and lines drawn and blurred and even erased. Limits were found, broken, twisted, and pushed up against with the will of thousands. Back then, perfection was the game, not the player. Back then, she had by chance stumbled upon a sense of belonging and something fun and – and, yes, special – and then she had lost it, and now she was pretending it was still out there, waiting for her to find again.


	35. Stream #178

“Dark evening, my little demons,” Yohane said.

Chat scrolled by at an unreadable rate. She waited a bit until it calmed down, and then read some of the messages. For a year, she’d told herself over and over again that it was no rush. There was no success in spewing out thoughtless words and content.

Notably, understandably, people were talking about Aqours. They were something. Something new, something unexpected, something great. But this made for an unfamiliar weight. It wasn’t just Yohane, now. She had allies. People to impress, and people to disappoint. Was that supposed to be fun?

Yohane sighed. That was a frequent occurrence, as of late. With all of Yō’s talk about being useful and wanting to be better, she herself had done a lot of thinking. It didn’t help that she was fighting for the top spot in the 1v1 ladder. But, naturally, Shakespeare would come to her aid with his words of infinite wisdom.

She cleared her throat and said, “‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.’ But what about the others? And which ones are the lucky ones? What would you want? Is there a difference between achieving greatness and being the best by default? Can you recognize it? Is being the best all it’s cracked up to be? I could go on and on with these questions – however irrelevant it is to someone such as myself, who was born great and has no need to question it – but humans need to stop and think about the answers eventually. So instead of worsening your headache, I’ll enlighten – endarken? – you.

“What is greatness?

“You say you don’t know, but then a batch of freshly baked cookies comes along. There’s nothing more satisfying. The crunch and texture are unparalleled, and the taste reminds you of your childhood: you’re visiting your grandma’s house and worry-free and it’s winter and snowing a blizzard or three outside but the wood stove is burning ‘til the house is hotter than hell. The cat is stretched out on the wood floor, running its internal algorithm to maximize contact with the warm surface, and you’re spending your time split between watching Shin-chan and pacing around the house because for the past half hour the scent of fresh cooking has been wafting out of the kitchen. Finally, your grandmother calls you over and she pulls the tray out of the oven and you’re all huddled around the cooling rack, watching them, waiting for them to cool enough to eat. They’re crisp and succulent and the chips of chocolate are glistening in their partially melted glory. It’s not heaven, it’s not hell, but it’s something special.”

Yohane fell silent. Was that a good image? Should she have waited until winter? Would people understand her? Was it time to click on cookies?

“That’s greatness,” she said with finality. Not that anybody ever questioned her. “It’s peak perfection. It is, quintessentially, the best. A quality you want imbued in every aspect of your life.

“And the next day, the cookies are still damned good, but they aren’t warm and fresh and aren’t quite the same greatness. Your grandmother keeps baking other delicious foods and it keeps you so full you have no room to sneak a cookie between following your grandfather around the woodworking shop and watching cartoons on TV. After a while, the few remaining cookies go stale and you feel regret for forgetting about them because they’re thrown in the trash, but a new batch is there and you’re a kid so it’s okay and you move on with life.

“That’s reality.

“Do you want to be the cookies? To love and to have been loved and then forgotten? Was the love worth the loss? Some would say so: ‘better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’ But if you’re taking advice from a nineteenth century poet instead of me, you’ve gone wrong somewhere.

“So it’s something transient. Greatness, whether attributed to a cookie or a person, does not last. Sorry, Alexander the Great, but I could count on my hands how many people in chat know who you are. A bomb from last century could have destroyed your entire army in a single second, for what it’s worth. Yes, that’s right. Your army is stale.”

She paused here, because some of her audience would be searching up Alexander the Not-so-Great right about now.

During this pause, she set one of her father’s records onto the record player and started it. Background music couldn’t get any more authentic.

“It’s hard to get peoples’ attention, in this day and age,” Yohane said, once she had sat back down. “But that’s what the great ones accomplish. If even only for a moment. What does this mean? It means that greatness is inconsistent. You only need one moment – you only _get_ one moment. Consistency is meaningless; all that matters are the peaks and what you do during them. Nobody remembers the troughs, or even, for that matter, the midpoints. Those sky-high outliers are what propagate through the ears and eyes and internet. And when someone else creates a new peak, yours is forgotten. A mere year later, your name will evoke ‘whos’ and ‘whats’ and those looks of confusion that make you think it wasn’t worth it in the first place.

“A rather banal metaphor is that of fireworks; the idea of burning bright and quick and then never again. You have only one moment, make or break, when the explosives detonate and everyone looks at you and you shine your brightest and loudest. You humans have eighty-two years, but your meaning – yes, that’s the word everyone cares about; the one everyone searches for and few ever find; the one psychiatrists prescribe for and parents cry over – is in a singular instant. And this instant can be missed and won’t ever come again. If you blink, miss your cue, lose your voice, hesitate, then it’s over and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. No greatness for you.

“Every person’s life has this, no matter how mundane they think they are. It could be their start or swan song or somewhere, anywhere, in between. Unsurprisingly, ninety-nine point nine percent of people miss it, without even realizing it exists. It’s for the best. The mental toll upon realizing their blunder wouldn’t be pretty.

“What else does it mean to be the best? Ask Saitama. You’ll still be left wondering if it takes effort or if it’s easy – but you’ll _know_ it’s unsatisfying. It’ll leave you empty and lonely. You’ll be incapable of love.

“Take your favourite video game for an example,” Yohane said. She had a sudden urge to turn off the stream and the record player and the lights and close her eyes. But she persevered. “You love the game and you’re good at it and you want to be the best at it but the only way to do so is to play all day every day until you hate it. The overall formula no longer interests you and it’s in the micro where you practice. The hopelessness of being at the whims of developers and the anger at the small things: you learn a mechanic that takes weeks to perfect and only gives you the most minute advantage over others, and then it’s all taken away with an update that doesn’t even include the change in the patch notes. How could you love such a nebulous thing?

“Is it even worth it? A utility calculation, weighing the stress and the time and money and the hidden costs of your mental health and physical health will tell you it’s not. Being great isn’t worth it.

“Why is it lonely? Why is it so brief? Why is it only once?

“Because we lose interest in the old. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the old, but people will still buy new flagship phones every year. They’ll still swarm the sales of the newest technology, and refresh their social media five times a minute without realizing it.”

If she was willing to go on a tangent, now would have been a good time to talk about the definition of ‘refresh’, since nowadays every internet-connected device refreshed itself in the background, leading to endless doomscrolling.

“There’s a reason your politics are done publicly in a hundred and forty characters or less, and your personalities sell themselves in thirty second videos edited to be as fake as that one store that claims to sell Farfetch’d soup every Friday. What’s true? What’s false? We aren’t as easy to read as binary. Is it an NPC you’re interacting with, or a player behind an avatar? Am I a pretty face stitched together for an AI to spout nonsensical autoregressive predictive text? Was that video you saw a deepfake or is your favourite actress really into that sort of thing? And, the most important question of all: does it matter? Your world is one of consumption, from content all year round until Christmas’ blatantly disgusting consumerism. If you’re here, you’re probably not a content creator; you’re a consumer. So ask yourself: what do you want to give, and what do you want to take? Because taking is a temporary fulfillment and giving won’t get you anywhere; there will be nothing left of you if you give and give and give and then invariably get forgotten.”

Yohane stopped and took a sip of cranberry juice – red liquid was an obligation on stream – to hide her frown. Greatness was terrible. Pessimism was her thing, sure, but it didn’t feel right at the moment. A haze overtook her mind, and she looked up at the ceiling for a minute.

“Do you procreate to fulfill your biological imperative? Do you chase your dreams? Do you seek wisdom to tame the mind, or strength to subdue the Earth? Or do you simply seek a smile for yourself? Your choices are limitless, and ultimately it’s for you to decide, but in the meantime, I’ll give you some advice. It’s nothing I could ever do, but you are all human, so aim for _good_. Do some good, be some good, create some good. Not great. Stay away from that kind of thing. Just... good. Good is enough. Be okay with not being extraordinary.” It went without saying that Riko was an exception. “Not perfect. Not someone who’ll turn heads. Mediocre, and mix in some good once in a while, and you’ll be better off than those you think are better than you.

“Sadly, some of you will ignore this advice. Some of you will still want to be the best. You’ll find something you love and dedicate your life to it. Let this be your warning... you are not better because you chose not to heed my advice. You are worse. Because where does it all lead you? Nowhere good, I’d gamble. With a leprechaun’s luck stolen, you’ll achieve greatness through lessons learned and lots of hard work and even more sacrifices. And then what? Time is still ticking. You’ll regret your choices, and you’re not like me; you don’t love regret. You hate it more than anything. And now you’re lonely and you’ve lost your only love.”

Yoshiko turned the stream and computer off. She sat back and looked around her room of broken computer parts and occult paraphernalia, and somehow, through it all, smiled.


	36. Kindly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some jokes just don't age well...

Chika was teaching Riko how to lose.

That was her unasked-for contribution. According to the school rumours, it consisted of rock-paper-scissor challenges between every lecture and at lunch and in the mornings and sometimes, not that silently, in the middle of class. With Chika’s persistence, Riko always gave in and accepted the challenges. Their head-to-head score was a popular topic among the school body and currently Riko was down forty-five to forty-nine. If Yoshiko had had better luck, she would have entered into one of the betting pools. Apparently Mari was participating, so there was real money to be won.

Riko was playing Endless music. Albeit, it was songs she’d never heard, from defunct game modes, obscure villages at the edge of Choir, and unvisited dungeons. That was one of the many advantages of a streamed game; there were no storage space limitations for music, so every village and dungeon could have its own. This wasn’t optimization land like Touhou, where the pause jingle was the main menu theme at four hundred percent play speed.

After hearing about Riko’s participation in the OCC the previous year, Yoshiko had checked on the results of the previous competitions. There had never been a winner – only finalists. The judges were strict. But, indeed, last year a ‘Sakurauchi Riko’ had made it to the final round. She should have been proud of her success, when her competitors had decades of experience on her. But then again, the further she made it, the longer the fall was. Her ego, helped not by the adults in her life, had led her upwards.

And her immaturity, as the judges had put it, was her downfall.

Immaturity, however, was temporary. Something to be outgrown. Surely Riko had to know that? If she just kept at it, she would become better, and better, and then the best. And there was no obligation to help her, but from the first time Yoshiko had heard her play – before Yoshiko had even _seen_ her – she knew Riko was something special, something great, something that surpassed words. So Yoshiko would do everything in her power to help Riko, no matter what it meant.

And eventually, inevitably, Riko would return to her status as an untouchable angel. Not a human with emotions and problems and weakness.

The warm weather continued throughout the next week, and _That’s Elephant!_ talked about hitting the ocean before the season ended because there was a mandatory beach episode, but nobody was taking the initiative to organize it. In other news, Yoshiko hated to find more in common with Mari but both of them had been catching flak for skipping practices. There was also Yō’s problem, which was aggravated by Chika and Riko spending more time together – because they were neighbours and all. Yō, with a huff and a puff and not much else, would latch onto Ruby, and Hanamaru would tag along, leaving Yoshiko a lot of time alone to stress over her business venture and her mysterious business partner.

* * *

One morning before class, after a long night exploring a rabbit hole of language prediction models of which she understood little of, Yoshiko fell asleep at her desk. When students started drifting in and the room grew louder, she woke up. Tilting her head partially and opening one eye a bit, she saw a girl in front of her desk. Better a classmate to scold her for sleeping than the teacher. Lifting her eyes a little higher and blinking the sleep away, she found it was Ruby. And Ruby was standing awfully close. Yet she wasn’t making any noise. Yoshiko thought about ignoring her, but, as they said, curiosity killed the cat.

“What’s up?” she said finally.

“Would you kindly take your earbuds out?” Ruby said.

Yoshiko obeyed. “I’m listening.”

Ruby looked left and right but didn’t cross.

“I bet you suck at Frogger,” Yoshiko said.

“I _know_ you suck at Animal Crossing,” Ruby retorted.

“Picking a fight?” Yoshiko said, standing up and causing her chair to make a god-awful screech. A few people looked over, and that was a few too many. She sat back down.

Kudos to Ruby, who didn’t flinch. “Skulls and fossils aren’t decoration.”

“You’re right. I’ll add some flattened frogs.”

Ruby covered her chest like frogs were somehow all of a sudden a metaphor for something aside from her presumed lack of Frogger skill.

“How are Riko and Yō doing?” Ruby asked.

“Not my job to know. Or care.”

“How is Riko doing?”

“She’s playing the piano more. But ‘how is she doing?’ Do I look like a psychologist to you?”

“No-”

Before Ruby could say what Yoshiko did look like, Yoshiko said, “That’s a shame. Apparently I’m destined to be one. Or need one. I’ll have to try harder. ‘How are you feeling today?’”

“Good-”

“But are you really? How does that make you feel? And why do you think you feel that way?”

“You’d either be the best psychologist in the world, or the worst.”

“Why not both?” Yoshiko crossed her arms. “But, seriously, what’s up? You’re acting awfully shifty this morning.”

“Bikini,” Ruby whispered.

“Yes,” Yoshiko nodded sagely. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“... shopping.”

“Oh – you wanna go-”

In a single smile, Ruby showed her aptitude for being Dia’s younger sister.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I won’t say it. Not that it’s embarrassing. We’re high schoolers now. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, and all that jazz. We can smoke and drink and party and puke and Netflix and chill and nobody will stop us.”

“I think you’re wrong, there.”

“How am I nostalgic for a decade I’ve never lived?”

“Are you, though? That decade wouldn’t have Netflix.”

“Touché. How about after school today, then? We don’t have practice, and I happen to have some free time – a rarity, for humans, but not for – oh, Zuramaru. Perfect timing.”

Indeed, Hanamaru had just arrived in the classroom. She was halfway to her desk when she noticed them and corrected course.

“Zura!” she said, waving a book in the way Yō would salute a morning greeting.

“We were just talking about-” Yoshiko began.

Ruby interrupted, “Netflix.”

“Yes. Netflix... and chill?” Yoshiko added, because propositioning an acquaintance first thing in the morning was a great idea.

Ruby gave her a weird look, confirming that beneath that meek, innocent exterior was a girl ruined by society.

“Oh,” Hanamaru said, clapping her hands together, “I want to net chicks and chill, too, zura.”

“It’s Netflix,” Ruby was quick to correct.

“Yes,” Yoshiko said, unsure of the difference, “and while that would make a lot of people happy, Zuramaru, sorry, but it’s not gonna happen. Don’t worry, though. We’ll get you a cellphone soon and you’ll learn _lots_ of things.”

“A cellphone? The future, zura!”

* * *

Mari looked out the window at the ocean. The view brought her no satisfaction. Something was coming that would be much greater than any ocean panorama.

* * *

Yoshiko was thinking a lot about the mall. It wasn’t that she had never gone, but, just, going with an acquaintance was a little too... normal, for her likes. Could she cancel out? As entertaining as it sounded, there were bound to be problems. Bikinis seemed like a sensitive topic for Ruby...

The conversations of their classmates at lunch was something she could tune out, but never the PA system. _Ding, d_ _o_ _ng, ding, d_ _o_ _ng_ , it went, and then promptly hit Yoshiko with a haymaker:

“Attention, please,” a voice said, which sounded an awful lot like Dia’s. “Would first-year student Tsushima Yoshiko please report to the student council president’s office. I say again-” she really didn’t need to, “-would first-year student Tsushima Yoshiko please report to the student council president’s office.”

Yoshiko ducked her head and tried to fuse with the desk, but it was too late. Everyone in the room was already looking at her. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t have even known her name.

Hanamaru stopped eating long enough to say, “Someone’s in trouble, zura.”

In revenge, Yoshiko stole a tangerine slice. Hanamaru’s grandmother always made the best lunches. Yoshiko took her time, gloating as she ate it.

“You don’t even like tangerines,” Hanamaru gasped.

“Ill-gotten gains always taste better.”

“Are you going to go?” Ruby interrupted, leaving little room for negotiation. In this regard, she seemed a lot like one of Dia’s limbs, which had snaked its way into the first years’ classroom.

“I’m thinking about it,” Yoshiko tried.

“Okay.” Ruby paused in a manner that made it so obvious she was counting to three. “Oh, you’re done thinking now? Excellent. Would you kindly be off now? Wouldn’t want to keep my sister waiting.”

“Right.” Yoshiko was done eating anyways. “In case I die, destroy my hard drives.”

“Says the immortal.”

“Some things transcend immortality. I think your sister is one of those things.”

Ruby nodded slowly. “Very likely.”

“And, seriously, that’s not a joke. Take a hammer to them. Mari and I have more in common than I’d like to admit.”

* * *

Just a little bit more. They were almost there...

* * *

Yoshiko took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

She obeyed.

Inside, it wasn’t so scary. The difference between the Dia in her head and real-life Dia was immense.

Dia was standing behind the chair at her desk. The blinds were drawn up on the window, allowing in just enough light to make Yoshiko uncomfortable.

“Do you know why I called you in here?” Dia asked.

Yoshiko tried that thing called optimism and said, “To play Tetris?”

“Not quite.”

And now was a good time for some reflection. Dia did not look impressed. Yoshiko did not do many impressive things. Correlation?

“Aw, crap,” Yoshiko said. “I wasn’t serious this morning! I’m straight – Ruby’s just an acquaintance. I don’t think of her that way!”

“ _What?_ ”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Normally, this wouldn’t be the responsibility of the student council president, but we have an awfully small school. So, as it is, I am responsible for discipline.”

Yoshiko nodded, understanding a bit more. But, “You need glasses – preferably square frame – and a ruler or equivalent.”

“Are you stupid?”

“By some metrics.”

“I’ve been made aware that you’re skipping classes.”

“Not that many,” Yoshiko rationalized, but found herself unable to count. “I’ll still continue on to next year. No biggie.”

“Truancy is unacceptable. Who knows what could happen? A family or personal emergency might prevent you from attending in the final semester.”

“Like... I might get hit by a car?” Yoshiko said, mentally scolding herself for sounding hopeful.

“Not what I had in mind.”

“But truancy is statistically _safer_ than attending. What if I get hit by a vehicle on the way to school?”

“That would be outside of my control.”

“So is my truancy.”

“The fact that you are currently in my office proves that it is not. I have certain courses of action I can take to encourage the attendance of students.”

Yoshiko gasped, and then gasped a second time because the first gasp sounded a lot like she was mocking the student council president and that was awfully brave of her to do without Yohane’s aid. The way Dia reacted indicated that neither gasp was a good idea, and this caused another involuntary sound eerily similar to a gasp.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, as Yoshiko pondered her ability to pass it off as hiccups. She determined it too remote of a chance.

Yoshiko said, “You’d exert pressure on a poor, afraid first-year who doesn’t know any better?”

“It’s precisely because that first-year doesn’t know any better.”

“I’d make sure to curse you as I lie on the side of the road gasping for air, my body mangled and bleeding, bones shattered and lungs punctured. And it wouldn’t be a truck-kun sort of deal. I’d curse you with my final, dying breath.”

Dia should have been accustomed to this kind of humour, being acquaintances with Mari and all, but that slight frown and silence told Yoshiko she went too far. Mari didn’t do dark, just perverted.

“Uh. Sorry.”

“I didn’t call you here to argue the finer points of the matter,” Dia said. “But if you did take into account all these microprobabilities, you would find that attending school, _statistically_ , leads to a longer and better life.”

“You’re right,” Yoshiko said, adopting what she hoped was a repentant expression.

Dia recoiled. “Right? You admit I’m right?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” Dia said, standing up a little taller. She glanced at the clock like she was ahead of schedule. “And that’s why I called you in here. We can’t have you missing class. Can I ask _why_ you were skipping class?”

“No fancy reason or anything. Just prepping for some streams. Consistency and quality are important – and both of those take time.” Neither would make her ‘great’, but it was satisfying and successful nonetheless. “So tell me, did the teacher really tattle on me over a few missed classes? She didn’t seem like such a loser.”

Dia’s eyes flashed. “The only loser here is the one who doesn’t value their education.”

“Wait, _Ruby_ tattled on me?”

“I said no such thing. Nobody needs to tattle on you. I can see your attendance in the system myself.”

She had too much power.

“Well, sure you can, but you don’t _actually_ check students’ info,” Yoshiko gambled. She made a mental note to investigate the system’s security – she would never change her grades, but there were other things there she might find of interest.

“Generally, no, but we’re in the same club. You aren’t just any student. I care about your well-being.”

Yoshiko glanced back at the door, debating walking out and ignoring Dia from then on. If there was one thing she hated more than a bitchy attitude, it was a pretending-to-care-as-a-guise-to-enforce-the-rules one.

“Look,” Yoshiko said, wanting at least something out of this conversation, “I’ll forgive Ruby for tattling if you promise never to say my name over the school-wide PA system ever again.”

“I can make no such promises.”

“Oh.” Yoshiko paused. “That’s fine. I guess one less acquaintance won’t matter to Ruby.”

“Would you kindly stop trying to bring my sister into this?”

Something told Yoshiko the Kurosawa sisters were planning something. That same something made Yoshiko decide obeying was the wisest choice.

“I want you to understand I only act out of concern,” Dia said. “I took no pleasure in calling your name over the PA system. If you promise me you won’t skip class anymore, then I can promise you this will never happen again. Even if you get in trouble in some other way, I will go to you personally to resolve it.”

“That would be a compromise. If I recall correctly, you said a compromise will leave neither side satisfied.”

“True. Compromise is insufficient. I can do better.” Dia turned away and looked out the window, like an evil CEO. “Then I suppose there’s only one solution. If your streams are so important to you, then the next time you skip class we’ll stream it to the entire school over the PA system. It will be great exposure for you.”

“Urgh.”

“What’s wrong?” Dia said, suddenly all saccharine.

“Nothing.” Yoshiko was two years too early to challenge Dia, and there was still the matter of skipped practice that could be brought up. “Fine. I’ll put an end to my absences from class.”

“Excellent. You may go, now. Enjoy the rest of your mealtime.”

Yoshiko wasn’t one step outside the student council president’s office when the bell rang signalling the end of lunch.

* * *

School was over, but Mari had been teetering on the very edge all day. Her heart pounded in her chest. She collapsed onto her bed and hit a button on her phone. It rang thrice before being answered:

“Mari?” Dia said. “This is uncommon. Why are you calling?”

“Hold on,” Mari said. “A-almost there.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No – wait – I need to share this with someone.”

“Hanging up in three, two, one-”

“Word count!”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m always open to feedback.


End file.
